A Little Fall of Rain
by balladofyoungdo
Summary: [AU][YD x ES] "What is this?" "Call it a diabolical suggestion." No one makes a pack with the devil without paying their dues … so Eun Sang learns as she submerges deeper into Choi Young Do's world — one fraught with heartbreak, exhilaration, and unspeakable dangers.
1. Chapter 1

**Premise:** Say Eun Sang never had a moment of brain malfunction and abandoned her mom for California. Tan opts out of the whole dynastic/inheritance struggle and doesn't return to Korea. Eun Sang attends Jeguk High anyway, because her mom—knowing what she knew about the battle of Jeguk wives—blackmails Ki Ae into getting her daughter in.

**Synopsis:** Cha Eun Sang, daughter of a housemaid, is determined to graduate from Jeguk High and go on strong. But when charged with a crime she did not commit, she faces expulsion and worse. This is when Choi Young Do, bad boy extraordinaire, comes to her with a tantalizing proposal … But can Eun Sang really make a pact with the devil?

-o-

**A Little Fall of Rain**

_Chapter One_

FOLLOWING A NIGHT of flash and noise, Choi Young Do found himself hovering at the edge of pale oblivion. Alone, as per usual. Convenient store ramyun half-forgotten to one corner.

By now, Myung So had likely snuggled back in bed, burrowing into hibernation until late noon. But not Young Do. Regardless of circumstance, he always started the day early dawn — a Spartan routine that gave him some sense of control over his dystopian world.

Standing by the convenient store window, he peered at the empty street with the nonchalance of a resting hawk. The morning was typical: all lines and hazy details and few people. He whistled faintly.

But just then, a strange girl came walking down the street. He noticed her dimpled chin and soft cheeks. Dressed in loose-fitting pajamas, she was a disorganized bundle of sleepy baby blue. Young Do crossed his arms and stared. Noting her wobbly steps, he wondered how _she_'s going to survive. Cute things generally become road-kill.

He half-waited for some passing truck to swipe her away. But with endearing adroitness, Baby Blue hobbled into the store without accident, checked out a drink, and made her way to him without opening her eyes. De-capping the bottle with a flick of wrists, she downed her drink in one — two — three seconds.

_Do bunnies sleepwalk? And then cartwheel? _Young Do blinked, not without amusement — but then felt affronted, given his badass morning was rapidly falling apart.

She allowed him no further thoughts. Another set of small motions propelled her out the door, to a seat by an empty table, where the dreamer continued her slumber against an outstretched arm.

_Well._ Young Do grabbed his ramyun and joined her without further ado. A closer inspection of her sleeping figure stirred instinctive interest, and he waved a hand near her face. No response. Not that she could feign much of anything, he decided. Something about her stood cosmos away from his world.

_ Yoo Rachel would sooner tap-dance across a bed of nails, _he mused_,__ than be caught public in pajamas. _Young Do smirked and leaned back languidly, taking a bite of his ramyun.

"Let me try it once!"

"Why? It's mine!"

Two pealing, boyish voices tore apart his makeshift indulgence in proximity, and Young Do turned around in slow irritation.

"Hey kids," he began, cajoling in his own way, but the boys looked at him with typical freight. "This is a public area. You have to behave!" He indicted the girl with a toss of his head. "She's sleeping."

But the sneaky little jerks burst into theatrics: "Ommaaa!" wailed the boy to the left, all while the other looked ready to cry.

Young Do cringed in aggravated disbelief._ Really_. Why is it that small children, the elderly, and politely dressed company always greet him with the same terrified sass? His cringe deepened as he covered his ears and turned away — only to realize the girl had awoken.

"Really, children these days," he muttered. "This time I wasn't even bad—"

To his dismay, she ignored him, looking at the sobbing little devils with concern. "Noona's here. Don't cry, ouh?"

"Noona!" The boys wailed with renewed energy, arms outraised toward Young Do. "Make the bad man go away!"

"Ok, ok, don't cry. Noona will call the police."

Young Do raised a brow as the girl fumbled for her phone, a quiet note of disbelief exiting his lips. "Ah, jinjja —" He leaned over and easily caught her wrists in a firm grip.

Her startled expression, oh-so-close, was a pleasant surprise.

"Don't bother," he murmured lowly, hands and eyes stationary. "Why call the police, when I _am _the law?"

"Wh-_what_?"

To her credit, there wasn't a trace of fear in her reply. Just some outrage. And maybe a pinch of righteous wrath. Young Do blinked, but then grinned very slowly; the Cheshire cat had found his Alice.

"Ah, what? You think I'm lying?"

"Of course," she countered without hesitation. "Let go, and we'll see after I call the police."

"I'll let go … in exchange for your number," Young Do found himself demanding, quite glibly. Her trembling wrists—in surreal transmutation—were elegance and speed in their own right, no fainter than the most limpid moments of free-fall he experienced while riding fast at night.

But she was dully unimpressed. "Are you crazy?!"

He frowned, strangely taken aback. Girls were usually more predictable. He always made them cry. "Oh. You are turning me down," he said quietly, without aggression. "Bad choice. I'll get revenge."

"Excuse me? I'd like to see you try in jail, you—"

"Look here," he pulled her just a bit closer, and—

"Aw, gross! Let's get out of here." Startled, they broke apart, only to realize the boys had long stopped crying, and were now looking on in judgment.

"Let's go. Show's over. She's not gonna call the police," the boy told his friend. "Look at them … totally flirting. Highschoolers these days." He threw in an eye roll for good measure. "Let's go. My Omma's making Kongguksu today. You can have some if you let me play that other game."

With that, the boys bounced away, blissfully oblivious to Young Do's mounting irritation. He glowered at their retreating backs — but that too suffered interruption as the girl shook off his hands with an angry toss, and marched away without further words.

And it was so that Young Do found himself back in original territory — a mostly dull morning, all alone, with a cheap convenient store snack or two.

—-

JEGUK HIGH LOOMED ahead like some awful medieval fortress in modern disguise. _Perfect for heirs_, Cha Eun Sang thought wryly, _but less so for a housemaid's daughter._

Not that Eun Sang ever thought she'd fit in here. Yet the embarrassment of coming to school without uniform was worse than she imagined. While other students arrived in chauffeured cars and designer shoes, she walked on alone and tried to keep calm. Mingling with the rich, she realized, made her want to melt and become one with the concrete floor.

_It'd be no different had I been a peasant carrying sacks of peas_, she thought. What little conversation she heard around her concerned money, things that could be acquired with money, and various ways one could spend fabulous sums of money.

With a pang, Eun Sang realized she's been thrown in the deep end. These kids weren't just upper-echelon rich — they're Korea's de-facto royalty rich.

She kept this in mind as she shyly filled out forms at the school office. _Parent's occupation_. She hesitated, and then wrote _housewife_. From the corner of her eyes, she could sense the attending teacher's withering scorn.

"I heard that your mom's a housekeeper, and that's why your fees have been waived, right?" the teacher pronounced for all to hear, plain as day.

_ Not that I could be anyone different, in this outfit_. Eun Sang sighed inwardly, resigning herself to reality as she followed the teacher to first class of the day.

But she entered the classroom and soon wished differently. The faces that met hers were uniformly contemptuous. Eun Sang felt exposed and humiliated._Amazing, _she realized, _I'm hated in less than two minutes. These kids are more united than a syncretized swim team._

"This is the transfer student with whom you'll be studying with, starting today," the teacher announced indifferently, and then turned to Eun Sang. "Introduce yourself."

"Hello, I'm—" A round of snickering dissolved her polite greeting in jondae.

Holding on to her pride, she raised her chin and re-phrased the introduction in banmal: "I'm Cha Eun Sang, ordinary and mundane in every aspect." Per common practice, she was expected to ask everyone to take care of her. But she balked: "I'm someone who can do well anywhere, so I refuse any attention. Receiving help would be burdensome. Nice to meet you."

When the teacher told her to find an empty seat, Eun Sang hoped the ordeal was over. But no such luck.

"I have a question for the transfer student." A boy with an open laptop went for the kill. The move surprised no one. "How did you manage to get in?"

Of course, it wasn't _really_ a question. Chan Young had warned her as much. Jeguk High hosted few kids; its exclusive social strata was one in which everyone knew everything about everyone—family, company, net worth, etc. This world was so small and airtight that there are few unexpected infiltrators. Mid-semester transferees could only be one of the two: new money or social-welfare charity.

Eun Sang knew which of the two she appeared, and did not plan to dodge the truth. But how does one _word _such a thing? To speak of her poverty seemed an admission to inferiority — and an open invitation to be bullied. Yet the longer she remained silent, the more ashamed she felt. She tried to begin —

"New student, do you not know we must start class?" The teacher broke the silence with impatience, still indifferent to the fate of someone neither rich nor well connected. "If you all must know, Cha Eun Sang's mother is a housekeeper to Chairman Kim and his family. By their generosity, she's been admitted on scholarship." With a swatting motion, she dismissed Eun Sang. "What are you doing, still standing here? Didn't I tell you to find a seat?"

—-

IT WAS WITH relief and regret that Eun Sang walked out her first class. She had naively assumed it was okay to show up without uniform, dismissing its 1,000,000 won price tag as merely wasteful. But what a mistake.

Her inexpensive clothes told everyone everything they needed to know: that she's not one of them; that her parents do not run entire corporations; that she can't afford to fight back. It indicated her the hamster in a den of vipers and king cobras.

And already, there were students who looked at her with predatory glee. _News sure travel fast_, she thought. _How long before something happens to me_?

With a gasp, she stumbled.

But as quickly, a strong hold locked her close and prevented the fall.

"Are you all right?" the tall boy asked, voice casually coy to suggest an unexplained intimacy.

Eun Sang looked at his feet—boldly shoed in primordial blue—and felt baffled. "_You're_ the one who stuck out your foot."

"If I don't trip you, I can't hang on and prevent your fall," he replied easily, smirking as he tugged at her captured wrist.

She jerked free. "You're one weird kid."

"Just weird?" he countered without pause. "Not scary?"

"Why do I have to be afraid of you?"

Something about his eyes made her uneasy. It was sharp and restless, in direct opposition to his cool voice. He stopped smiling.

"Because I'm going to make you fall." His voice dropped to lower, softer shades. "A lot."

Eun Sang retreated slightly, eyes wide.

He seemed unaffected by her silence. With a clap of his hands, he was carelessly cheerful again. "Now then, let me ask you a question. This time, answer with proper care."

She could not speak, and waited with sinking apprehension.

He grinned slowly, leaning in. Eun Sang felt a jolt of recognition and gasped involuntarily. _Oh no, __she thought weakly.__ Please —_

"Remember me?"

She winced and closed her eyes. _Of course, of course_. That menacing, bad stranger who had made the poor boys cry. _You know. That guy you angered when you, well, tried to call the police. Jinjja … Such awful, bad luck. First, the uniform; now Lucifer potentate himself._

"I hope you get the situation."

"What?"

"Do you really think you're going to have a mundane and ordinary school life?" His brows lifted in challenge.

Eun Sang looked away. "So what? What's it to you?"

He tilted her chin back towards him. "You should look at me, at all times. Perhaps I ought to motivate you to take me seriously."

She frowned, ire boiling.

"I really am the law. Especially at this place."

"Ya! That's enough." She slapped his hand off her chin.

His lips curled, with feline amusement. "So it seems the bunny has claws."

She stared back with skepticism. "Back then … you had asked for my number. If this is some weird harassment attempt, I'll really call the police."

"Attempt," he murmured with distaste. "How insulting. I don't ever attempt."

Drawing a breath, he pursed his lips in exaggerated patience. "Perhaps I haven't made myself clear. Let me re-phrase: starting today, you are _mine_."

Eun Sang narrowed her eyes. "Is this a threat?"

"No threat — merely an offer. And a generous one at that. You should take it before things get hard."

"I don't understand." She hesitated, before adding, "and I'm not interested."

"You'll change your mind. Does it seem like you've options?"

—

YOUNG DO PROWLED through the lunch buffet with disinterest, and kept his eyes on the girl.

She's unknowingly seated herself in the social welfare chair. But of course no one has directed her away from impending doom. Young Do smirked inwardly. People are so predictable: just as good citizens of Rome adored their gladiatorial bloodbaths, Jeguk kids loved seeing someone else bullied. It was the status —

His thoughts halted.

Moon Joon Young — that wan, cowering, eternally terrorized prey — was trying to play hero. He stood taut next to Eun Sang, like some riverside reed balking against a storm. Young Do watched as he spoke at length with the girl, trying to move her away from the seat.

Ah. How kind. How noble. _How seriously annoying._ Young Do shook his head and laughed quietly. Time to play.

A glance at the two was signal enough for his henchmen to move. Young Do joined them.

Sensing their presence, Joon Young made one last heroic stand and pushed Eun Sang away. Taking up the seat, he made a show of eating, jaws tight with what he probably hoped was courage. But of course he was trembling with barely-muted rage, humiliated by the onslaught of food spilling down his uniform. Good_._ Young Do understood rage.

It's ironic really. Moon Joon Young's life would have been much easier had he broke fast and pathetic like all the others. It's simply not Young Do's style to sit aside easy when someone's determined to play hardball.

"Social Welfare." One of his cronies sneered at Eun Sang. "What? You need anything? Want to eat with us?"

Young Do smiled faintly, adding, "I'm okay with it," all while clocking her face. She looked back with mixed emotions. None forgiving. He made a mental catalogue: horror? Check. Anger? Check. Helplessness? Check.

Disgust? Check.

_Now she's Alice in purgatory. _Young Do looked on expectantly as she slowly walked away, shoulders sagging under the burden of fear. _She'll come to me soon enough_, he mused idly, _once it's clear … that hell has no exists._

But her shoulders did not sag all the way. She turned around and Young Do could see anger has overtaken fear. It was truly noteworthy. Of the countless social welfares he's bullied, no one's pulled off the look of pissed-off dignity.

"Ya!" Such serious attitude. "What are you doing?"

Young Do felt strange, caught as he was between rival urges. Irritated with her naïve righteousness, he wanted to terrify her hard and terrify her real; be the one to educate her in relational _realpolitik_, before some other villain of her life inevitably does it later down the line. But all this seemed dull in comparison to the other urge: that is, to kiss that angry button nose and bite her lower lip. Just to see what face she'd make _then_.

"You've changed your mind," he noted simply. "Come here. Sit down."

"_Ya!_" She was seriously upset and on the verge of tears. "How can you guys do this? Didn't your mothers teach you right and wrong? How can you rest easy at night?"

Young Do felt condescending then. Pouting, he remarked blandly, "New student, how boring. You are moralizing, when we're having fun."

"Stop it! Leave him alone and stop it!"

"Well …" He looked at her squarely and smirked. "Make me."

That shut her up. She looked anguished at the indignity of it all. Sighing rather miserably, she looked at the ground and squeezed her features together. And then let go. "Look here, you jerk." She met his eyes. "You know that I know that I can't make you gain a conscience. But some day you're really, really going to regret this."

"Oh really?" Young Do replied lightly, with a playful smile. "Give me your number. I'll call and let you know when that happens."

"She's not handing out numbers." Young Do looked up and grimaced with annoyance. Yoon Chan Young. "Especially to someone like you, Choi Young Do."

"Ya! Chan Young ah!" His clingy kitten of a girlfriend immediately sprung to his side, puffing a little. "Why are you helping Eun Sang? You know someone like her would never ever have a easy time here."

"Lee Bo Na—how could you—" nosy Mr. Academics began with a start.

Young Do felt his brows crinkle at the beginnings of a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yoon Chan Young." He waved a hand dismissively. "Relocate. Now. This isn't the national social welfare convention."

"Not until you stop being a royal pain in the butt."

"Listen while I ask nicely," Young Do replied with mock-patience. "Don't you have better things to do—like study until you foam at the mouth?"

"Ya! Choi Young Do! How could you?! My Chan Young isn't dumb like you. Apologize immediately!" Bo Na nearly bared her teeth.

Young Do leaned back and nearly chortled. He pointed a finger at Chan Young. "Pay attention, O victims of mine." He gave Eun Sang and Joon Young a backwards glance. "This is how you climb the social ladder. Study reaaally hard, and seduce someone rich."

_Score_. As predicted, Chan Young's eyes darkened. Young Do felt pleased. If money fell from the sky every time he made someone loose their cool, he'd be richer than Chairman Kim.

"Choi Young Do! Jinjja, this is too much!" Bo Na beat her boyfriend to it. "Bow to us. Or I'll —"

The new student prevented Bo Na from jumping on him, and quickly placed a hand on each of her wannabe rescuers. "Thank you, Chan Young ah," she whispered fervently, and then grinned at Bo Na. "You too, Lee Bo Na." She looked back at Young Do. He raised a brow. "You guys should go. I'll join you later."

"Who's asking you to lunch with us? It's a couple's thing." Bo Na glared at Eun Sang, but then added, "don't think too much of yourself! Being pretty isn't enough. Young Do's not going to be nice just for you."

"You're not coming with us?" Chan Young pressed.

Young Do rolled his eyes. "Let our newest Social Welfare explore her school life freely. You're not her daddy. Besides, my darling should learn that all things come with price tags attached. Including intervention." He looked intently at Eun Sang. "Including compassion."

But all around, dour and judgmental faces met his gaze. Young Do shook his head. "Never mind. You gloomy bunch are cramping my style. I'll treat you all to a break." He gestured at his goons. "Let's go. Playtime's over. The jungle's been polluted with too many cows."

—

BY THE LAST class, Young Do's day hadn't been all that bad. In fact, he considered it spiffing fantastic. Well, kind of.

Cha Eun Sang's appearance this morning seemed almost surreal. A foray in magic realism. You know, the kind of fictive plane where fate, coincidence, and pixie dust glued together outrageous happenings

_What were the chances_? Young Do mused. _Say the probability that I meet a girl I want to kiss is 2%. And that said girl happens to be sleepwalking and in pajamas is 0.1%. And then her getting into Jeguk mid-semester is another 0.05%. _He paused in serious thought, which earned a strange look from Myung So across the room. _That's like one girl per every 100 million …_

With a jolt, Young Do realized he's being silly, and so shook away the errant thoughts. Perhaps he's gotten a case of early onset dementia. Or air pollution has wrought permanent brain damage. Cha Eun Sang's definitely not his type. And did he have a type: Suzy and Hyuna. That kind of sexy.

"Choi Young Do!" A voice broke his revelries. He looked up to see an administrative assistant at the classroom door. "The Chairwoman wants to see you."

Frowning, he had no choice but to follow.

He was ushered to her office and told to sit down. The Chairwoman peered at him behind an enormous power-desk. "Choi Young Do. At this rate, I'll see you more than your teachers."

"Of course, Chairwoman. I see you even more than my own mother," he replied smartly.

Ji Sook cracked a smile at that. "Young Do, you need to behave, and be nicer to the other kids. I received a complaint and will have to call your father in for a meeting."

Young Do inhaled sharply. "Who did it? Tell me. Which jerk? Is it Moon Joon Young?"

"Ah… well, it—it was an anonymous complaint." She looked away, ill at ease.

"And so? If the … _anonymous_ complainer withdraws his complaint, can you call off the meeting?"

The Chairwoman sighed with exasperation. "No, Young Do. You can't wiggle your way out this one. I've already made the call. Your father's secretary scheduled a meeting for next week."

Young Do gritted his teeth and closed his eyes in momentary distress.

"Now go. Return to class."

He stood and left without formalities, slamming the door on his way out.

Scowling, he checked the time. 20 minutes left of class. _Moon Joon Young, enjoy the last 20 minutes of your life_. Young Do tore through the halls, stopping only when he's arrived at the correct locker.

His father hated being called to school. It was the usual grievance: an important man has better things to do, than be humiliated by the school because of a badly behaved son. Young Do wondered what this one would cost. Another judo smackdown? More dishes to wash? No … these were typical disciplinary measures. His father always had the upper hand when it came to unexpectedly bad thrashings.

The bell rang, and Young Do thirsted for blood.

"Aiiish, Joon Young ah, _chingu_," he snarled with sinister cheer soon as the spectacled boy appeared.

"Why do you shake with fear? Yaaa, Joon Young ah, don't hurt my feelings. No one pays as much attention to you as I do."

"What do you want this time?"

"Chingu, some affection would be nice." Young Do's face hardened. "And some consideration."

The scholarship student blanched. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Young Do boxed his ear. "You damn well know what I mean."

"Fine I do," the social welfare answered with shaking enunciation. "And so what? It's not like you don't deserve it. There's no such thing as 'eye for an eye' anymore. But how could you think I wouldn't fight back?"

"So now what?" Young Do questioned in mocking tones. "You think you're the big man, just because you _complained_?" He slapped him head on. "Go on. That's right. Show me how great you feel now."

"That's enough, Choi Young Do." Joon Young seethed through clenched teeth. "You think you're such a bad boy, such a rebel …"

Young Do raised a brow, challenging him to continue.

"But in fact you're a reactionary. A straw-man with a big gun. Everything you do is a retaliatory attack against others. You've never had to defend yourself, or stand up for what you believe in. Take away your daddy and his hotels and you're nothing."

Young Do inhaled in disbelief. The corners of his eyes stung. "_What_?"

"That's right. You're nothing. No-thing."

By now a crowd had gathered, and the stage set for a spectator event. _Citizens of Rome, you want drama? You want blood? _Young Do looked around at the excited students. _Fine. I'll give you a bloodbath._

He smiled. "Stop breaking my heart, Joon Young ah." Bam! There went the boy's body against the lockers. Gasps and peals of alarm all around.

"You think I wouldn't know if you reported anonymously?"

Bashing round two. Joon Young now panted from the pain.

Young Do flicked his hand dismissively. By this point, it was all a blur and it hardly mattered why he or anyone cried or laughed, lived or died. "Regardless of you reporting me to the office, how many times do I have to tell you? Your father may answer his phone calls, but my father's secretary answers _his_ calls."

The social welfare, covered in cold sweat, looked ready to cry. Young Do could not summon empathy, or make sense of the suffering. He felt aggravated but distant — a sizzling bomb floating near Pluto, light years away from blue skies and birdsong.

"Why do you keep on making secrets between the secretary's office and me? What else do I have to show you for you to be considerate towards me?"

He pushed at Joon Young's forehead. "Because you're not considerate, I have to do this to you with everyone watching."

The boy does not answer. But nor could he control the sobs of anguish.

"Are you going to do this again?"

A hard swat against the top of his head. "Aren't you going to answer me?"

And another. "Aren't you going to answer me?" _Who does he think he is? Mohandas Gandhi?_ "Stop glaring at me."

"Don't touch me! I won't take it anymore!"

Young Do almost couldn't register what had happened. Joon Young had swung the backpack at him hard and fast. He raised a hand to his temple. Blood. Ah … finally. Good, good, good.

"Why are you making the Devil mad? You want to die?"

"I won't take it anymore, you asshole!" The social welfare panted. "I'm going to transfer soon. I've got nothing to be scared of. I'm going to kill you!"

Joon Young charged at him. Young Do rubbed an eye with exasperation, and easily took him down. The boy grunted in misery, and the crowd mewed on cue.

Young Do loosened his joints and stood to full height. That's when he saw her.

Oh, what a face. So dewy with sympathy. So fresh and vibrant with care. It's as if she had feelings for everything under the sun, and had tears enough to sketch out mountains and rivers. _Do you look at every suffering bastard the same way? _Young Do met her eyes. _No … but y__ou don't look at _me_ tenderly. I guess I don't qualify._

He stood with heavy breathing as the girl gazed at him with increasing fear and contempt. _No, no_. He stepped on Joon Young's shoulder, and watched her face flower with pain. _No, I can go further. At the end of the day, I always sink further. Some day, I'll hit bottom. And then …. and then I'll beat you, father of mine._

"You should have put up with it just a little longer," he said, eyes still on Eun Sang. "I'm looking forward to what's going to happen to you next."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks for the love and support! I'm back with another chapter. ;)

Please follow me on tumblr (balladofyoungdo), as the story gets updated there first. I also answer all questions and comments there. =)

-o-

**A Little Fall of Rain**

Chapter Two

EUN SANG BEGAN the uphill climb by thinking of horror movies thrills. Chairman Kim's mansion nestled in a neighborhood of winding lanes and high security gates. As she trudged on awkwardly, passing cars would spray her with yesterday's rainwater.

_ There's that scene in_ Ringu_, _she thought. _The one where a girl__ witnesses her friend's death. An eyes wide-open, spasms of terror kind of death. By a terrible, unknown force._

Eun Sang mulled over her first day at school. Was Choi Young Do a terrible, unknown force? Was this why she stood mute while he thrashed around like godzilla on speed? Afterwards, her rushing over to Joon Young felt so silly, so useless. _"Joon Young ah, that bad person just beat you up," _Eun Sang imagined herself saying. _"So here's a water bottle."_

She felt the bitter tug of disappointment. Before Dad had died, he'd always told her passiveness was the worst. And she _has _maintained a life of doing — of working jobs, more jobs, and speaking up for herself. But why had she become handicapped at Jeguk High?

Turning a corner, she found herself facing the Kim mansion. Or at least its walls, which were high and impenetrable. Eun Sang always wondered if it wasn't unlike prison itself.

She entered quietly, following instructions to remain invisible. But soon as she entered the main building, Madame Han chirped,

"Eun Sung, is that you?"

She grimaced, but answered respectfully, "Yes, Madame. I am back."

"Get me a new bottle and come to the living room."

She obeyed the mistress's orders.

"Eun Sung ah, you're really back!" Madame Han smiled soon as she entered with the wine. "Come here. Sit!"

Eun Sang could see she was drunk as usual. And wearing her bunny socks. And playing fruit ninja on a carelessly propped ipad.

"Now tell me. How's school?" The Mistress peered at her eagerly. Eun Sang paused in confusion. … _Didn't Mom practically resort to blackmail in getting me in?_

"Eun Sung, you really are lucky," Madame Han began fussily, placing a hand on her own. "My Tan. He used to attend that school, before the Chairman sent him to an even better one in America."

Eun Sang didn't know what to say.

"I've heard that Jeguk High is top ranked among Korean private schools." The Madame waved at the air with grandiosity. "It's _soooo_ good. If you do well, you'll end up in MIT and Oxford, Stanford and KAIST."

She still didn't know what to say.

"My Tan. He's so handsome, and was so popular when he attended. He liked literature class best, and played for the tennis team." She turned suddenly. "Are you on the tennis team?"

"Ah … no, sorry."

"Well, hurry! Tell me about Jeguk High!"

Eun Sang eyed Ki Ae's impatient pout, and felt a little sad. "It's really nice, Madame. It really is. So new and shiny and full of important people. They have a full size performance hall and a new science lab. I think our English teacher has a degree from Princeton."

"Ah, so it's like that." Madame Han said no more and dismissed Eun Sang. Picking up the wine glass, she stared into the distance — as if trans-oceanic distances between mother and son could be remedied with single longing glances.

When Eun Sang returned to the little room she shared with her mom, she found it empty. So she played _Ringu _on her laptop and began cleaning the room.

An old pile of Mom's notepads prompted her to re-organize. A quick flip through each unveiled indignities: _DRY CLEANING ONLY; I'm sorry Madame; please be patient Madame. _But also sassy one-liners: _Madame, if you wear that you'll be mistaken for Michael Jackson._

And this: _Ask Madame about Jeguk High_.

Eun Sang found her "college aspirations" form tucked within the pages. Her jaws tightened as she reviewed the answers. _Interested major: none. Interested school: none. Interested career: salaried job._

The note on the next page read,

_ Eun Sang's uniform—600,000 won saved. Call brother for rest. Take rest from emergency fund._

—

EUN SANG WANTED to conquer Jeguk High. Really, truly. She _had_ to stay; whining was for the rich. A wise girl would take advantage of what's been offered, overcome, and graduate strong.

But easier said than done.

As she learned Friday afternoon, it was hard to march on singing, when everyone's determined to weed you out.

Many years later, when Eun Sang felt her most confident at the height of a news career, she'd remember this afternoon still. It'd been late, and she was sitting by the window. Last class of the day was English literature. And Young Do, who'd "persuaded" the kid sitting behind her into switching seats, was called on by the teacher to read.

"…'Tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed," his voice drifted behind her.

Eun Sang watched the progression of a bee climbing the windowsill, blinking. Lucifer had a surprisingly nice reading voice.

"Things rank and gross in nature possess it merely. That it should come to this —"

"_Cha Eun Sang!_" She jerked with surprise. The teacher looked at her sternly. "You're wanted at the Chairwoman's office. _Immediately._ Go!"

Amid whispers, she left her seat and reached for the door, trying hard not to think. The hallways beyond were quiet and Eun Sang felt like tiptoeing. It's as if in coming to Jeguk, she's exhausted her luck, and must tread carefully around fate.

"Ah, Cha Eun Sang, last one," the Chairwoman declared upon her arrival.

Eun Sang looked around and saw other students, all crammed in and quite nervous. She counted heads. Fifteen in all. This was everyone — that is, all the social welfares.

"A matter very grave and very serious has come to my attention," the Chairwoman began. Someone swallowed audibly.

"As you all know, with generous donations from various Jeguk foundations, our school has purchased a Steinway concert grand piano."

No, Eun Sang didn't know.

"A model D-274, the very one used many years at the Tchaikovsky Competition, top of its class," the Chairwomen's voice was unsteady with anger. "It was especially chosen for us by the world-class pianist, Nam Soo Jin."

Silence.

"_So which one of you did it?" _she fairly screamed. Eun Sang's eyes widened with confusion. "The carved defacement. Which one of you is the vandal? Tell me_now_!"

The gathered students looked at each other and at Ji Sook. No one spoke. One girl cried silently.

"How do you know it's one of us?" Joon Young, ever brave, asked.

"Because of _this_." She slapped several large photos onto her desk. Eun Sang leaned in and saw the incriminating evidence: the message "_WITH YOUR DIRTY MONEY BURN IN HELL_", in capitalized English, carved quite deeply into the piano surface. "This kind of message … only one of you social welfares could have done it."

Blown away with alarm, the students retreated a step. Eun Sang's mind stopped churning.

"The longer I must wait, the more there is to pay," Ji Sook warned. "This is no joking matter. The culprit will be expelled and fined under willful damage to school property."

"Now line up before me," she commanded, reaching for pen and paper. "State where you were today between 1:00 and 1:27 PM. And give me the names of those who can confirm your alibi."

Everyone rushed to claim their place in line, as if a delayed reaction might lead to further condemnation. Eun Sang felt faint, staggering when elbows pushed her back.

As it turned out, innocence was fairly easy to establish. All students should have been in their first afternoon class, and so alibis could be substantiated by students and teacher alike. One by one the line shortened.

Until it was Eun Sang's turn.

She hesitated. The Chairwoman looked up with interest. "Well?! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing," she murmured flatly. "I don't have an alibi."

"So, what are you trying to say?"

"During lunch, people spilled soup all over me." Eun Sang could not stop her voice from trembling. "I skipped that first class after lunch … be-because I was in the bathroom, trying to wash out the stains."

"That couldn't have taken more than 10 minutes. Why didn't you return to class?"

_ Because I was crying. Because I felt lonely. Because I hated it here._

"Chairwoman, I didn't do it," she said instead.

The Chairwoman looked at her blankly. And then sighed.

"… No point in denial, you lying girl. Everyone else has an alibi." She finally stood and slapped her, expression livid. "Why did you do it? For the sake of your mother, we acted kindly and offered you an enormous opportunity. And instead you chose to exact revenge with a hate crime."

"I really didn't do it —"

"Chan Eun Sang, I know your kind. You're just like _her. _So cheap and greedy … and ambitious. Yet you always find reason to grumble, to hate."

—

Young Do dialed her number. No response. He repeated the action to no further success. "Ya, Cha Eun Sang," he muttered to no one in particular, "you're harder to reach than the Pope. For your attention, should I do something really naughty?"

She'd been pale and tense after that trip to the Chairwoman's office. He knew that was to be expected; no one ever gets called in for tea and biscuits. But what on earth had she done? The girl was a social welfare, for god's sake. She'd practically made it her life mission to stay invisible.

He caved in and dialed her number again. And then again. Followed by another try. _Aish .. this is no fun. _Even monkeys pressing buttons are rewarded with bananas. But Young Do made another call and ambled down the street. It was getting late and the air chilly. He wondered if she'd been kidnapped by gangsters, and if it was worth it to save her.

And there she was.

Napping.

Young Do exhaled and rolled his eyes in disbelief. _Am I fated to sponsor convenient stores?_ he thought incredulously.

He approached, took the seat opposite, and called. Her phone vibrated against the table, but Eun Sang remained unmoving. He picked up for her and bristled.

"You saved my number as 'don't answer'? Don't answer what?" he retorted cheekily. "My heart?"

She kept her head buried in the crook of her arm.

Young Do pursed his lips and kicked the table. "Ya, Cha Eun Sang, why are you always sleeping in places like this?" He crossed his arms. "Makes me want to protect you."

She ignored him.

"Ya." Another kick at the table. "Aigoo, why do you play hard to get? I know you're not sleeping."

No response. He paused and frowned.

"Maybe I've gone soft, and you've forgotten to be afraid. Look at me. On the count of three, or I'll do something you'll _really_ remember. One … Two … Th…."

Young Do waited.

Nothing.

_She's really not in the mood to play._ With an irritated sigh, he gave up and rose from the seat.

The store interior was warm when he entered. He traversed the isles with familiarity, grabbing stuff here and there. After throwing everything on the counter along with a credit card, he hesitated and looked at the section of cheap umbrellas. _She'll probably need one of those too. Just in case._

When he made it to the glass door, he saw that Eun Sang had emerged from her position of hiding. Even from a distance, he could see she'd been crying. _No, _he noted with an awful pang of recognition. _Not just crying._

The only time he'd seen a face like hers was in the months before his mother had left. Those days she'd cried almost every day. A drawn out, Sisyphean ordeal. So full of despair and helplessness and misplaced outrage. As a boy of 13, he'd avoided his mother whenever she cried. Her chocked sobs reminded him of death calls performed by birds with mangled wings.

He stopped at the door, sure he did not want to approach her now. _Crying people are … _, he thought, looking down at the stuffed plastic bag in his grasp. _Crying people are__ downright dangerous. _

But, as if in a trance, he marched out into the cold and whacked the back of her head.

"Cha Eun Sang!" She jumped in her seat, looking up at him in surprise. "Why are you crying like this in public?"

She hiccuped.

"Aish, I'm embarrassed to be seen with you."

"Then leave me alone, you jerk."

He took the seat opposite her. "But why should I?"

"Why are you doing this?" She sniffled with exhaustion. "Scaring me. Bothering me. Getting my number without my permission. Do you really think everything in life could be bought with an order of chicken?"

"No, of course not," he replied gently. Well, almost. As usual, his tone was laced with flippancy. "Still, I do it. It's better than being stuck with nothing."

"Well, good thing you rich people always have _some_thing," she sobbed. "Then I won't wish you well. No matter what, you guys will live better …"

Young Do felt his forehead fold with confusion. "What?"

"You should find someone else to harass. Because I'll leave the school soon." She looked at him with those luminous eyes. "Would it matter if I told you to stop bullying the next social welfare to come your way?"

"What happened in the Chairwoman's office?"

"And _why_ should I tell you? " she retorted indignantly. "I don't trust you. I hate everything you represent."

"Ya, Cha Eun Sang, I don't just represent things." He pressed his lips together, propping his chin against his hand. "Fine. I'm very bad … and I want to be bad. But most people are bad, you —" He stopped. This wasn't what she wanted to hear.

He handed her the supplies. "I'll go. But take this."

She looked at the plastic bag with suspicion. "What's this?"

"Delicious food, water, umbrella." He told her drily. "Survival kit, formulated from personal experience."

—

BY MONDAY, THE news was all over the school. Cha Eun Sang, daughter of a housemaid, had willfully vandalized school property. She was under investigation, and expected to be expelled.

Watching her, Young Do vicariously sampled the day of a bully victim.

In the morning, she opened her locker to messages of "DIE BITCH DIE". Before making it to class, she'd slipped badly when someone pushed her hard. Then first period featured endless verbal abuse. During the second, students pushed her out and locked the door. By the time Young Do saw her at lunch, she was soaking wet and shivering. And still people pelted her with pieces of food.

_I told you people are bad_, Young Do thought, eyeing her tormentors with usual impatience. _Though most are bad without substance or style._ He wasn't sure stepping in and taking her away meant anything. Everywhere, people are mostly the same: they will see safety in numbers, and they will follow an angry mob. Most adults he's known are bullies. Saving her now changed nothing for her future.

Drawing his coat about him, he left the cafeteria for the school concert hall.

Inside, the Steinway rested like some enthroned king. Young Do jumped on stage with a push of his arms. _Now let's see what's everyone so excited about …_

But after long moment, he felt clueless. No message could be found. He examined the piano surface a third time … and then suddenly remembered that its lid opens. Putting on his motorcycle gloves, he tested the piano lid. It was very heavy to lift.

_Bingo_.

He found the message carved on the lid's inner surface, quite close to the outer edge. _WITH YOUR DIRTY MONEY BURN IN HELL_. Young Do rolled his eyes. Such dull composition — what a waste of a crime.

He took some pictures with his phone. The message was quite deeply but crudely carved. Young Do scanned each individual letter and paused. The first letter 'N' looked very odd. He leaned in closer. It appeared that the vandal had mistakenly carved a backwards 'N', only to carve a correct 'N' over the initial mistake.

He set his phone on the floor and played around with the lid, wondering how the vandal could carve the inner surface when it took him both arms to hold the lid. Shaking his head in thought, he closed the piano top and bent down for his phone.

That's when he noticed it: fragments of nude-colored fiber, caught where the wooden stage floor had several splinters.

_ Cha Eun Sang, _he marveled, _you really are innocent._

—

That evening, Young Do sat in dinner with the Korean minister of culture and tourism. His father chose to host in Zeus Hotel's finest private dinning room. Young Do scanned the setting and tried not to barf. Enormous money had been spent on the 18th century French furniture, Dutch old-master oil paintings, and enormous crystal chandeliers.

"Mr. Choi, permit me to congratulate your work in expanding Zeus Hotels." The minister raised his glass. "I hear these days you've holdings in Japan, China, Thailand, and the Philippines. This is quite a victory for the Korean hospitality industry."

"It's an honor to represent Korea overseas," his father replied smoothly.

Young Do swallowed his restlessness. Daddy was very good at whoring himself out to Important People.

"Well, you've convinced me, Mr. Choi." The Minister gurgled with laughter and took a large bite of his roasted lamb. "In four years, Korea will host the summer Olympic games. I will consider Zeus its official sponsoring hotel.

Young Do looked away to hide an eye roll. What's been left unsaid, of course, was his father's extravagant gifts to the Minister.

"Mr. Choi, I never knew you had such a handmade son." He turned to find the minister's wife looking at him appraisingly.

"Ah, yes, this is my son, Young Do. He is eighteen still, so forgive his poor manners." Mr. Choi smiled through glinting glasses.

"Eighteen? Same age as our daughter, Ji Young." Young Do glanced at the girl sitting next to the minister's wife, and scuffed inwardly. This sort of marriage mart trading was commonplace. That pathetic Tannie pooh, barely 17, had gotten shackled to Rachel just last year. It was only a matter of time before his father traded him for some stocks and a subsidiary company or two.

"Oh really?" Mr. Choi, appetite wetted, asked. "Your daughter looks very accomplished."

"Our Ji Young has been studying piano in England." The minister's wife beamed. "She performed a solo concert last month."

"England? So you are visiting?"

The girl shook her head. "Oh no, I've just returned to Korea."

_To get engaged_, Young Do finished for her. How very predictable. Despite the varying activities of male relatives, rich girls shared a common destiny: to get married, and to marry well.

"Our Ji Young has studied in England since age 11, so Korea will be a big change for her," the Minister added.

Young Do's dad took the bait. "Of course! Poor dear. I know just the thing." He turned towards Young Do with a hinting smile. "My son knows Seoul inside out. Ji Young ah, why don't you let him show you around?"

"That's a great idea!" the minister's wife crooned. Her daughter bowed her head obediently.

Young Do gritted his teeth and fumed. _Typical_. His father was going to throw him into the Olympics deal.

"Aigo, Mr. Choi, what a meal! I am stuffed and full." The Minister leaned back and rubbed his middle. "Ji Young ah, why don't you entertain us with something on the piano?"

"Sure, but I'll need someone to page turn."

"Young Do can do it." His father stared at him menacingly. "…Won't you?"

He followed the girl to the piano.

She adjusted the bench height and placed sheet music on the stand. Young Do looked at the cover page and paused in recognition.

"This here." He pointed at the 'И'. "Why is this 'N' backwards?"

The girl looked at him as if he's dumb. "Are you serious?"

"Ah, well." Young Do wanted to laugh. _Wait until you realize I practically live in convenient stores._ "It's … Russian isn't it? Are you playing Russian music?"

"Of course. What you see here is the composer's name in the Russian alphabets," the girl replied with condescension. "Sergey Prokofiev. The piece is called "Diabolical Suggestion.""

"Diabolical suggestion," Young Do considered, and then smiled with glee._Diabolical suggestion … Jackpot._

—

Throughout the madness, Chan Young helped whenever possible. Eun Sang knew he'd never think her capable of a "hate" crime. And so while others screamed for her blood and innards, he was with her in the library, helping her prepare for midterms.

"Up to the folded page is last quarter's material." Chan Young marked her textbook. "Study until here for the midterm. Also, it'd help to refer to this." He directed her attention to a small supplementary text.

"Thanks," she told him gently. "I don't know how I'd survive without you."

Her phone lit up with an incoming call. A glance at its screen made her jolt with alarm. _Choi Young Do_. She quickly swiped 'ignore'.

"Who's calling?" Chan Young peered at her with worry.

"Dear friend, I have secrets too." She avoided the question with a pert grin. "Hurry and go. Or else Bo Na will get mad."

"Don't worry, she doesn't get mad. She's always cute."

Eun Sang cooed and shook her head. "Aigoo, don't be so clueless."

Chan Young took his leave, but not before instructing, "Study hard! You have to show them."

She smiled and waved.

That's when Choi Young Do called again. She watched his name colonize her phone screen, ever a persistent force.

She answered. "What?"

He was straight to the point: "I want to eat jjajangmyun, but they don't deliver in one serving."

Eun Sang frowned in confusion. "Huh?"

"You want to eat jiajangmyun with me?"

She nearly face palmed. "Buy two and eat one. You're rich."

"I can't just waste food," he mock-chided, almost boyish, and quite teasing. "Not in this economy."

"Ask someone else. I'm not going," Eun Sang told him shortly, assuming the conversation over.

"You will … Haven't you seen Joon Young yet?"

Her heart sunk.

With horror she saw the boy. He resembled a ghost — a haunting — with those sad downcast eyes and scrunched shoulders. She felt his sadness and made it her own.

_I should have known better. _Since day one, Choi Young Do has been more unpredictable than a natural disaster. An earthquake and volcanic eruption all rolled into one.

"Feel sorry for poor Joon Young," he continued. "He's had a bad day. Maybe as bad as yours." She was at loss for words, and he spoke on idly,

"You see, I called my lawyer and told him I want someone sued for assault—"

"YA! Choi Young Do —"

"Joon Young's not happy about that." She wondered how he could say things with dead calm. "So I told him I might let it slide … if you come to me."

"You bastard! How could you —" she screamed into the phone, only to swallow her words. Everyone in the library stared.

Joon Young floated towards her listlessly. "Hello," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

She gulped, and slowly raised her phone. "Choi Young Do, tell me what you want."

"You," he answered easily. "There's a taxi waiting outside the school. Get in."

—

SHE REACHED TO knock at his door, but then stopped.

_Am I really going to do this? _she wondered weakly, her throat dry. _Can I do this?_

The wood paneling felt cool and she pressed her feverish cheek against it. All around, the world seemed to shake along with her thumping heartbeats. When she finally knocked, the sound seemed ominous and final.

He opened the door and she crossed into the devil's den.

But the sight that greeted her wasn't really the bowels of hell. Not quite: an airy but standard hotel room, personalized with miniature toy motorcycles, and rather surgically neat. _Wait, does he _live _here?_

She walked in further and noticed the bowls of black bean noodles.

"Why do you look surprised?" He laughed lightly. "I told you I wanted to have noodles. Did you think I'd have instruments of torture?"

She sat down and picked up the chopsticks. "Let's get this over with."

"Aigo, about time." He grinned crookedly. "I was getting so hungry waiting for you to answer my heart."

She set her chopsticks back down. She really couldn't eat. He looked at her expectantly.

"So tell me, what's your motive."

He frowned. "Motive?"

"I know you're not really going to drop the lawsuit. Why are you messing with me?"

He said nothing and looked at her with an impatient smile.

"Joon Young came to me with death on his face. It may be a joke to you —"

He stopped her with a hard stare. "Who says it's a joke?"

Eun Sang paused in surprise. "You mean … you're really going to withdraw the lawsuit?"

"Well, no, not quite."

"What?"

"Not until you agree to something else."

"YA —"

"I also know you didn't deface that Steinway concert grand."

Once again, he managed to shock her with the force of a small tornado. She hesitated. "… Excuse me?"

"You know, getting expelled … being fined a small fortune." He examined his nails. "Yaaa … doesn't it make you wake at night in cold sweat?"

"And so? What do you mean?"

He took out his cellphone and showed her the picture. "See these nude-colored fibers caught within the wooden floor?"

She nodded.

"I found them directly under where the message was carved on the piano," Young Do told her. "It means the culprit was wearing nude-colored tights. And that she was kneeling while carving that message."

She looked at him, confused.

"As much as I want to imagine you kneeling, I also know you didn't do it." He smiled faintly. "Have you forgotten you're too poor to afford Jeguk skirts? Since coming here, all you've worn are unsexy pants."

Eun Sang almost choked with relief. She'd been drowning at sea, and Lucifer throws her a piece of driftwood. She peered at him with hesitant awareness. _Are all boys with sharp cheekbones as clever as he_?

"So what does this mean?" she asked with cautious optimism. "If you show this to the chairwoman, she'll declare me innocent?"

"Probably not," he said simply and put away his phone. "Ya, don't you see? She really wants to find someone to blame — especially someone working for Chairman Kim's mistress."

He surprised her yet again. "Mistress .. How did you know?"

"Irrelevant." He waved her off. "To convince the school, you need hard evidence."

"Hard evidence? Of what?"

"That someone else did it," he replied. "That means finding and naming the real vandal."

She stared at him.

"And for that, you'll need my help,"

"So what?" She flexed her clammy palms. "I know you're not Mother Teresa —"

"Aigo, our new student understands people so well."

"— and you won't help me without getting something in return."

"Cha Eun Sang." He rubbed his hands together. "Let's do a lunchtime trade. You give me crackers and I give you juice."

She rolled her eyes. "Get to the point."

"Yes, darling." He handed her a piece of paper, looking rather pleased with himself. "Read and sign."

"What?" She squinted at the document. "Wh-_what? _Couple relationship Agreement?" She looked away and winced. "Ya! Choi Young Do! What the hell —"

"Read and sign," he merely repeated. "Unless you'd like to get expelled. And spend the rest of your life paying off the fine."

_ I'm treading on thin ice, _Eun Sang thought in a daze. _But then, ever since Dad died … when have I ever stopped treading ice?_

"This contract is a binding agreement between Cha Eun Sang, hereby known as 'Girlfriend', and Choi Young Do, hereby known as 'Prince of the Universe'," she read in trembling outrage. "With execution of this agreement, Girlfriend agrees to yield her heart and soul — YA! CHOI YOUNG DO! Are you a gangster?"

"Read on."

"… Agrees to yield her heart and soul to Prince of the Universe, in exchange for two promises. That 1) he absolves her of any guilt regarding the Jeguk Steinway case, and 2) he drops the ongoing lawsuit against Moon Joon Young."

She scanned the rest of the contract, which listed various legal minutias, and then frowned. "It is agreed that Girlfriend will answer all calls from Prince of the Universe, look at him when he speaks, and provide him with her charming company whenever he so desires."

Eun Sang placed the document on the table and closed her eyes.

"If any of the arrangements above should be left incomplete," he finished for her, "this contract is void."

Overwhelmed, she tried desperately to clear all thoughts from her head. Dealing with Choi Young Do really was exhausting. She could never predict the path of his destructive inclination.

"Why are you doing this?" she questioned. "_What _is this?"

He caught her eyes and grinned in horrible suspension. "Call it … a diabolical suggestion."

"How do I know I won't regret this?"

"You don't," he quipped with a cheeky shrug. "But then, no one ever does when they make a pack with the devil."

Her phone rang.

She saw the number and panicked.

"What? Aren't you going to answer?"

She picked up in a small voice, "Hello?"

"Chan Eun Sang, what is wrong with your mother?" The Chairwoman's voice on the other end was full of rancor. "I called her about your expulsion and all I heard were tapping sou —"

She hung up and tossed her phone to the floor.

"Give me a pen."

Brows arched, Young Do smirked and complied.

She knew she needed to think more deeply about this. But oh, the indignant rage. _How shameful it is to be wronged. To be made into someone I am not_. Eun Sang gripped the pen to the point of pain.

A moment more and it was done.

She'd signed off her soul to the Devil.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: A BIG thank you to everyone who left reviews! You guys are the best; the encouragement keeps me goin' yayy-yeahh..._

**A Little Fall of Rain**

Chapter Three

"HERE ARE THE finalized expulsion forms. Sign—" The Chairwoman paused to make markings. "Here, here, and here."

Eun Sang stared at the paperwork and remained still. Facing Ji Sook in silence, she hoped to appear as unnerved as possible.

"Well, hurry. Also, hand me your name tag." When Eun Sang made no move to do _that _either, the Chairwoman leaned forward from her desk and took care of it herself. The small gesture was packed with force as the tag ripped away from Eun Sang's sweater.

"Now, sign. In a few days, the school lawyer will contact you regarding the indemnity fine."

_What to say now? Should I make a run for it? _Eun Sang thought wonderingly, as the office fell quiet and the wall-clock ticked on ominously.

But then, a firm knock at the door ended the torturous silence.

"Make an appointment with my secretary," the Chairwoman yelled peevishly. "I'm not free at the moment."

The door opened anyways as an unknown man entered. He was middle aged and professionally dressed. Looking at them both, he bowed lightly.

"I am here to represent Miss Cha Eun Sang," he said simply and handed the Chairwoman a card. Her forehead wrinkled in surprise.

"What's this?" she asked, looking at the card. "Lee Dong Pil, partner. Law offices of Chang, Jung, Lee, and associates. _What? _Don't tell me — did Han Ki Ae send you?"

"I represent my client in a countersuit against the school," the lawyer pronounced with crisp indifference. "We are filing for false accusation and defamation, and seek monetary compensation for the emotional and psychological stress my client experienced during this ordeal."

"Excuse me? What is this? False accusation? Defamation?"

"If brought to court, I believe there is sufficient case to prove my client is innocent, that the school neglected due diligence in its own investigations, and that the charges brought against her are false."

The Chairwoman looked at the lawyer, then looked at Eun Sang, and finally fumed in silence.

"I have also been authorized to release all relevant info regarding this countersuit to major news media." The lawyer was fairly expressionless. "It will make an interesting report to the public. Plight of the scholarship student. Socioeconomic discrimination in Korea's most elite secondary school."

"I see what you're trying to do." The Chairwoman tapped a finger against the desk, jaws clenched in thought. "Fine. Say the school would like to settle privately. What are your demands?"

The lawyer smiled with functional brevity. "That a mutually satisfactory re-investigation is to be mounted; that my client remains in school, continues classes, and sits for exams; that she is by all terms a student in good standing throughout this investigation; that she will remain a student in good standing once re-investigation proves she is not the culprit." The lawyer placed a large envelop on the desk.

"_If _re-investigation proves she's not the culprit," Ji Sook corrected with a glare, taking out the documents and scanning each page. "Fine." She tossed the envelop into a drawer.

"I will allow a 14-day period for you to establish your innocence." The Chairwoman announced with reluctance. "Now go."

Eun Sang released a suspended breath and rose from her seat — only to stumble when her legs almost buckled. But the relief that flooded her senses was warm and piquant, full of Sunday mornings and fresh citrus. The mystery lawyer held open the door and she exited.

Outside, a familiar figure leaned lazily against the hallway's end, his long legs casting shadows across the floor.

Eun Sang's eyes widened when the lawyer stopped and bowed deeply.

"Thank you Mr. Lee," Young Do remarked coolly. "You will be compensated generously." The lawyer nodded curtly and made his leave.

_The things money can buy, _Eun Sang thought grimly and crossed her arms._I really did need his help._

Young Do flashed a devious wink. "Here's a lesson in rich people manners," he told her, smug as usual. "Keep calm and sue everyone."

—

THE NEXT MORNING, Young Do sat by the window of yet another convenient store. It was very early still. And cold. The hot steam rising from his waiting ramyun frosted the window with moisture.

Impatient, he began eating before the noodles were soft. Looking out at the dim street, he wondered how he could observe this morning routine so regularly, so faithfully, and yet feel restless.

The window allowed him to observe the city in its waking moments; as the sun peeked through rooftops, the streets would gradually bloom with activity. Yet Young Do, estranged behind the looking glass, was the perpetual observer, the detached outsider.

And so he observed on. The sun breaking through the building ahead flooded his vision with bright saffron.

That's when she appeared. Eun Sang. Caught as she was in a cocoon of sun, hair aflame and eyes resplendent. Young Do felt the morning pause and his breathing slow.

She met his gaze and tilted her head in recognition. The gesture was like a touch, a meeting of flesh itself. Here in his cold morning, was a girl who knew of his existence.

But while Young Do savored the narrative twist, she was not pleased:

"Ya, Choi Young Do! Who calls a "special strategy meeting" so early in the morning?" Eun Sang plopped into a seat opposite him and took out a notebook.

He eyed her with skepticism as she took out various pens, markers, and pencils. "What's this?"

"The piano investigation," she replied, matter-of-fact. "The school may be re-investigating, but do you really trust the Chairwoman? We'll need to figure out who really did it. So let's get organized. Timelines, suspect lists, motive charts, so on."

Young Do cringed and waved her off. "Stop. Are you the Korean secret service? You're putting in 100% effort; I only do 30% … 50% of the time."

"Look, this might be a joke to you, but for me—"

"Yaa, Cha Eun Sang, why don't you relax and get something to eat?" he teased mercilessly. "Life is short. Let's instead do a breakfast date."

"Why are you like this?" She frowned at him, as if by peering really hard, she could arrive at some answer. He looked at her round-cheeked seriousness and wanted to frighten her a little.

"Just think of it—" he licked his lips clean "—as the devil taking advantage of your disadvantage."

She sat back, doe-eyed. "You keep taking advantage of people's disadvantage. Are you training to be a debt collector?"

"So?" Young Do shrugged. "I don't play by the rules."

"No, you don't play by _any _rules," she admitted through gritted teeth.

_ And you're thinking I'm not your style_, Young Do noted. Here was a girl who's probably been poor all her life, and has dreamed of nothing but rock-solid security. _Instead she's been tossed into the wind to dance with me._

"Fine." Eun Sang tied up her hair and faced him with fresh pragmatism. "You could also say I'm taking advantage of _you_. Let's not put up illusions and get to work."

But Young Do made no move to get serious. Propping his chin against a hand, he made a face and continued to stare at her. Why was he interested? She was so boringly capable, and carried a frosty air of independence that warded off outside intervention … a typically sturdy working class girl.

Yet Young Do was so enthralled he could probably watch her skip puddles for hours.

"You'd said you figured out the vandal," Eun Sang began when it was clear Young Do would not talk. "Well, who is it? Do you have evidence? What about motive?"

He raised a lazy finger. "I wouldn't worry about it. We're dealing with a badly botched crime. Which ever student messed up that piano was clearly in a panic and very clumsy."

At her questioning look, he took out his phone and showed her the photo. "See this first 'N' in the carved message?" He zoomed in on the letter.

"The vandal messed up," she observed and squinted in concentration. "But that's not unexpected, right? Since the message is in English?"

"Yes, but no," he replied, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. "The choice of capitalized English was smart. Because it's a second language here, most students do not write English often enough to develop a distinctive style. This means we can't use handwriting analysis to find the culprit."

He now had her full attention, and Young Do rather liked the intensity of her concentration; made him want to show off, just a little.

"Take another look at the badly carved 'N'." He handed Eun Sang his phone. "It's not just any mistake."

"Hm…" Her nose scrunched. "Well, it does look like the N had initially been … backwards? Maybe?"

"Bingo." He took her notebook and wrote a 'И', followed by a correct 'N' over it. "Looks familiar?"

"Well, yes! Just like the piano mistake." Her eyes lifted in excitement and Young Do felt absurdly pleased.

"In Russian, there's a Cyrillic alphabet that looks like a backwards English "N"." He wrote the Russian 'И' for her in the notebook. "See what I mean? It's basically a mirror image of 'N', and similar enough that your mind can confuse the two. Especially for someone whose Russian is better than their English."

Eun Sang gaped a little as she absorbed the information. "_Russian_? Really? You're saying the culprit is a student who knows Russian? Isn't that too much of an assumption?"

"Not really." He closed his palm around her pen and looked at her intently. "Should I show you what instinct and speed does to reason?"

A blush flamed her cheeks.

"In making that mistake, the guilty student practically made a Freudian slip. She's used to writing in Russian, and habit took over when she carved this—" he pointed at the 'И' "— instead of a real 'N'."

"So you're saying we can find the culprit by matching all the students with a Russian connection against their alibi?" Eun Sang asked haltingly, expression doubtful.

Young Do clicked his tongue and made a mock pistol with his hand. "You got it."

—

THOUGH THE COUNTERSUIT had reinstated Eun Sang as a student in good standing, she was anything but in the social scheme of things.

The Steinway case had made her very popular; she was now a bona fide Jeguk celebrity with legions of haters and persecutors. If she'd been invisible, she was now fully infamous. Everywhere she walked, people recognized her as the girl who seriously messed up a very expensive school piano. Her lack of uniform only made things worse: it was the scarlet letter A to her poor girl vandal status.

Gym class was always the worst, and Eun Sang dreaded every session. For 50 minutes, she was an open target inviting "accidental" flying projectiles of every shape and size.

_Such as volleyballs_, Eun Sang thought as one flew her way. She dodged and Bo Na made a lunge for it.

"Good return, Bo Na!" some girl cried. "Cha Eun Sang! Why are you useless? You're in our way if all you're going to do is hide."

Across the net, Eun Sang saw Chan Young looking on with worry. She gave him a discreet thumbs-up for reassurance. _Only 15 minutes more to go._

The opponent team argued over who was to serve next, and she allowed her mind to drift a little. _Russian. Somehow Young Do made it sound too easy. It can't be—_

"Ya! Cha Eun Sang! Watch out!" Bo Na's voice alerted her to action, and she hit the ball just in time. It lunged back high above the net, in a slow descent, and that's when Eun Sang saw a boy smile. He stood just by the net, and when the ball fell to the right height, he jumped and made his spike.

_BAM!_ The ball hit Eun Sang with the force of a stinging punch, and she staggered to the floor. Her face felt raw, as if partially worn by sea salt and fire. A dull ringing punctuated her ears.

"Jinjjia! Ya! Eun Sang ah!" Bo Na crouched down and checked her head. "Are you still here?"

"The side of my head hurts." Eun Sang's voice sounded funny to her own ears.

"Oh my god, you need to see a nurse," Bo Na remarked, and then quickly added, "don't ask for Chan Young! I'll take you!"

Eun Sang was so dizzy she barely registered what went on next: she and Bo Na visited the nurse; she was examined and treated; the nurse mentioned a minor concussion; she was instructed to drink something and was laid to bed.

By the time the furor in her head had calmed to rest, she was enveloped in silence and alone in the school infirmary. The noon sun toasted her feet so that they felt unbearably hot, and she suddenly felt tired. _Must I go to my part time jobs after school? And tomorrow too? And the day after that?_

From the window she observed Jeguk students heading to lunch. They seemed so stylish, so entitled … so careless. Wasn't this why she wanted to stay? So she could graduate, attend a top university, and join the ranks of the affluent? _But what do I know about money? _Eun Sang thought ruefully. _This isn't a fairy tale. You can buy the castle, but not the happily ever after._

"New student, it appears you suck at volleyball." The velvet voice was by now familiar, and Eun Sang wasn't sure his appearance surprised her.

"What now, Choi Young Do?"

"Want to get revenge?"

"What?"

He smeared a thumb across his lower lip. "Revenge. It's a dish best served Choi Young Do."

"Really?" She scoffed with dismissiveness. "Taking advantage of my disadvantage, again?"

"Of course. Can't scare the kids too much. I'll really be unpopular if I keep doing bad things without reason."

She looked up at him with raised brows. "Somehow I think you've plenty of reasons. But not that it makes you any less of a bad guy."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Young Do crossed his arms and smiled archly. "I'm not afraid to do bad things … I'm just afraid I'll run out of bad things to do."

"Then I'll suggest one more," Eun Sang found herself saying as she looked out the window. "Let's skip school. Just for today."

—

YOUNG DO RODE fast and it felt good. The motion and the speed were intimate; they filled his senses from the tip of his knuckles to the beating of his heart.

"Can't you slow down?" He heard her faint voice from behind.

"Don't want to!" he yelled back with levity. "Just hold me properly."

The traffic cleared and he increased their speed, savoring the feeling of weightless buoyancy. "I'm telling you, speed is the best. I'd even speed up time if I could."

"What? Time?" she joined him in yelling, sounding incredulous. "Seriously? But aren't you afraid of death by aging?"

"Boredom is worse," he replied drily. "Aren't you impatient with being 18? People keep telling you to learn this, do that. But everything I want to do is still illegal."

"Why am I not surprised?" He heard faint disapproval in her voice.

"Rather than stay in place, I'd ride off further." He changed lanes to pass a slow moving truck. "Even if it's to somewhere darker. No place can be bad, if it's somewhere to which you can journey."

He swerved to avoid a badly behaving driver.

She screamed on cue: "Ya! Choi Young Do! You bastard! Watch the road. I'm too pretty to be paralyzed at 18."

"Curse again. Your voice is sexier when you're mad." He rode on at top speed. "And hold me tighter while you're at it."

"Jinjja! I'm never getting on your bike again!"

He laughed. The scenery had changed to lighter shades as they approached Banpo Bridge. Below them, the Han river spread like a field of pale stars, minted anew by the mid-day sun. Young Do loved the reductionist affect speed had on the landscape. The Seoul lying beyond became a city of ashes, as sunlight bounced off buildings in blurry fragments. Some days, when the blinding reflections took away the divide between earth and sky, he'd think it possible to ride far into the clouds.

But terrified Eun Sang was by now strangling his waist, arms locked around him in a vice grip. He suppressed an intoxicating note of thrill. He'd always wandered alone. But now she was with him, practically joining into him, as her body molded against his.

_Alice in wonderland, _he thought, _where would you like to go? If it's with you, it could be heaven, hell, or somewhere in between._

—

EUN SANG WOKE to her cheek being pinched. "Wha—"

"Cha Eun Sang." She rubbed her eyes and almost jumped. In the dark, Young Do's face was very close and very disgruntled. "This is the worst date in the history of dates."

"What are you talking about? What date?"

"You suggest a movie, and I say sure. You tell me it's free, and I say whatever," he murmured with silken menace. "The movie opens and it's a weird documentary about African bushmen. I turn around and find you sleeping, snoring, and drooling at the mouth."

With apprehension, Eun Sang checked her mouth corners. It did feel moist.

"Next time, no movies with you unless it's NC-17."

"This isn't a date. And who said I'm going to catch a movie with you?"

He blinked, and made a face somewhere between puzzlement and annoyance. "You're a walking icicle …" He leaned in even closer. "Take a good look." He ran a finger along his unforgiving jawline and poked her in the forehead. "Are you not tempted?"

Eun Sang gulped, finding it hard to look away. "I'm hungry."

"So am I."

She inhaled sharply and pushed him away, springing from her seat. "I mean, let's grab food."

Outside, the commercial street bustled with activity. Eun Sang beamed. "Oh good, I know this neighborhood. Come on." She tugged at his sleeve. "Don't you ever get sick of convenient stores? Let's get real food. I know a good place."

To her surprise, he followed without protest, even as they squeezed into the humble family restaurant. When the cheap food arrived, he scarfed down everything, seemingly enjoying himself.

"What?" Young Do asked when he caught her looking at him.

"Nothing." She averted his eyes, but then looked up again. "Well … it's just that you look almost normal."

"Normal?" He narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I'm usually _abnormal_?"

She chocked on her food. "I mean — yes. I've always assumed hotel heirs preferred luxury cars and caviar to bikes and noodles."

"And so? What are you saying? Because my dad runs a few hotels, I've got to like fish eggs? What's money anyway? All the good stuff cost next to nothing."

_ To you maybe, _Eun Sang thought. _But when you're poor, everything has a price._

And so she decided to resume business: "We need to talk about that Steinway."

"Didn't I tell you? There's not much to talk about. I've already figured out who did it." He rubbed at his brow and pouted with disinterest.

"Then who? Who did it?"

"Lee Anna. Born in St. Petersburg. Father's involved with Russian oil; mother the daughter of a Russian oligarch. Started studying at Jeguk last year. Speaks Korean with a foreign accent. Good?"

"No."

"What?"

Eun Sang sighed. "I've already called Chan Young for help. According to him, Lee Anna is the only one at school who fits your profile. But he asked around and realized she was in science lab when the crime occurred. Yoo Rachel was her lab partner."

Young Do stared at her and slowly set down his chopsticks. "It's unlikely I've gotten this one wrong."

"Ya, just because you're clever, don't assume everyone else is dumb."

"Are you sure she has alibi the entire time? She didn't leave class, not even for bathroom breaks?"

"No, not even that," Eun Sang confirmed, brows knotted. "Look, we never had solid motives established. No one ever commits a crime without good reason. Like money. Or revenge. Or power —"

"Ya.. stop stop." His eyes upturned with distaste. "In the _movies_, people act with solid motives. And I suppose poor people may act with motives. But find someone rich enough, bored enough, pissed off enough, and you won't need motive to deface that piano."

Eun Sang frowned with gravity. "But you can't prove anything without motive."

He considered her words and laughed a little. "Maybe that's why the school can't ever figure out who's drawing those body outlines outside. No hard motive."

"What do you mean?"

"Aish.." He drummed his knuckles against the table, smirking. "Maybe we won't be able to find the real culprit after all."

She looked at him with consternation.

"But then—" his tongue teased out behind sharp teeth "—does it matter if you're expelled? Whoo! Even I wanna get expelled. Makes me excited. Want to run away with me?"

"Why should I?" she retorted shortly. "Why would anyone?"

He laughed. "It won't be bad. Should we go somewhere faraway? In the mountains? I'll catch fish with bare hands, and you'll nap under the stars.

"Do that by yourself. I hope a bear eats your arms and legs." Eun Sang was not amused. "For those of us too poor to rebel, there are part time jobs waiting."

She got up and left without further words. As she reached for the door, she heard him call,

"Wait! Ya, Cha Eun Sang — don't you want a ride?"

—

AT THE END of the long day, Eun Sang returned to Kim Mansion through the usual side doors. Her eyelids felt sore with sleepiness as she rubbed at her brow. A demanding headache was beginning to set along her temples.

She opened the final door and met her mom's stoic look. Seated by the drawers, Mi Kyung was folding newly washed clothes.

"I'm back," Eun Sang murmured and sank into the floor. _10 minutes_, she thought, faintly aware of homework waiting to be completed. _I need just 10 minutes of rest_.

A slap at her leg broke her lethargy. "_Umma_! Why?"

Mi Kyung gave her daughter an intimidating look. _Why are you sleeping before doing homework? _she signed with assertive motions. _You were ranked top 3 at your old school. I won't be able to look at Madame in the face if you rank any lower at Jeguk._

"Umma! Forget it! I'll be lucky to rank top 50," Eun Sang cried with exasperation. "They teach crazy things at that school. Chan Young finished calculus last year, and is doing linear algebra this semester. My physics teacher won't pass me if I don't brush up on electromagnetism."

Her mom paused with surprise — but then slapped her leg again. "Ow! Umma!"

_So? _She gestured. _You learn and you do well._

"What if I don't want to?"

_I want you to graduate from that school, _Mi Kyung replied firmly, reaching behind her to produce a nicely wrapped box. _Here. Wear it with pride from this day on._

"What's this?" Eun Sang tore through the wrapping tissue with hesitancy. A thickly woven plaid skirt tumbled from the box, followed by a familiar navy blazer.

"_Oh_, Umma," she breathed. "You bought it? All 1,000,000 won of it? But we don't have the money."

Mi Kyung smiled. _Don't worry about it. Let me be a mother once in a while._

Eun Sang hugged the uniform close and tried not to cry. "It's so pretty and I'm so happy. But Umma, you know I might be expelled, right?"

In this her mom was firm: _you're not a vandal and you won't be expelled._Her gesturing hands were gentle._ Not my daughter._

_Oh, Umma. How can I learn your strength? _Eun Sang thought desperately, and smiled best as she could. "Umma! You've always said I'm pretty, right? Well, let me be prettier and model these for you."

With lighter spirits she changed in the adjoining bathroom. And then twirling, she made her debut: "How do I look?" she asked with hands under her chin.

_Very pretty, _Mi Kyung replied with that calm smile of hers.

"Ajumma! Hurry hurry!" They both paused at Madame's slurred voice. "Is your daughter home? I need her to make a call."

_Go, go! _Mom waved at her and Eun Sang made a dash for the living room.

The scene that greeted her was a housemaid's nightmare: empty bottles all over the table, spilled wine on the carpets, and two very drunk women slouched against the sofa.

"How may I assist you, Madame?" She bowed.

"Make a call for… that driver of ours," Ki Ae murmured with half-shut eyes. "Tell him. Tell that … that he drive the car to front."

"Yes, Madame." Eun Sang reached for the living room phone and made the call.

"Now help my friend to the front." Madame Han gestured at the other woman. "She drinks—" giggles all around "—like an ox."

"Ya, Han Ki Ae!" Her friend suddenly sat upright as Eun Sang reached to help her. "You have the worst taste in alcohol. They say money can't wash away the smell of soil." The two women laughed hysterically, even as Eun Sang began escorting the visitor to the door. "I come here today and find out you've been drinking the cheapest junk. Even though the Chairman had 100 million won bottles in the cellar!"

Still on the couch, Ki Ae craned her neck and giggled at them. "But now I know." She pointed at the empty bottles as Eun Sang unlocked the living room door. "Ya, Song Min Sook, isn't it a bit too much? 1 million won per sip?"

"Whatever," her friend slurred as she stumbled against the door. Eun Sang hurried to guide her. "Okay, I'm off. Ki Ae ah, just remember: beauty is priceless!"

Outside, the night air was freezing and Eun Sang shivered a little, regretful she'd worn the uniform skirt _sans_ stockings.

"Omo! I've seen you around here a few times." The lady visitor pointed at Eun Sang. "But a Jeguk High uniform? I didn't know you—"

Eun Sang frowned a little as a note of realization marked the woman's face.

"Ahh… are you Cha Eun Sang? The newest social welfare? Han Ki Ae sent you, didn't she?" The lady leaned close for a better look, and Eun Sang smelled alcohol. "Aigo, my Ye Sol complains about you every day. What did you do?"

"What did _I _do?" Eun Sang's face must have looked incredulous, because the woman laughed.

"Just kidding. I know how it is with scholarship students." The lady waved her arms idly as Eun Sang bent to open the car door. "My Ye Sol's afraid you'll find out what I really do, and ruin her life at school."

Eun Sang gaped at the woman, not quite sure what she'd just heard.

But the blissfully drunk visitor laughed some more and hiccupped. "But see, unlike me, my daughter's never been poor." She looked at Eun Sang straight in the eyes. "She doesn't know how silent poor people are forced to be."

—

EVERYONE WATCHED AS Young Do strolled through the cafeteria. No one wanted to disturb the panther on his hunt. Moon Joon Young had transferred just days ago, and it was understood Young Do would find a new choice victim.

But he had forgotten about school tradition as he scanned the tables with impatience. Twenty minutes into lunch and Cha Eun Sang was nowhere to be found.

Of course, he knew it's likely that a ring of girls had cornered her in some bathroom, and that she was gurgling toilet water this very moment. But now that the lawyer had been hired and she'd made an escape on his bike, such an event seemed a personal insult to his own standing as king of the school.

"You!" He grabbed a random kid.

The boy shrunk an inch. "Ch—Choi Young Do. What can I do for you?"

"Have you seen that social welfare girl? Cha Eun Sang."

"Her? Yaaa." The boy made an impressed face. "She's popular these days! I think you have to wait in line. Kang Ye Sol's messing with her right now."

"Where?" The boy's eyes widened as Young Do tugged at his shirt collar.

"Back of the school?"

With that, Young Do took off, never mind that people were waiting for him to put on the newest bullying show. He was fast on his legs and exited the school building without delays. It wasn't long before he heard the sound of girls arguing.

"So what if you've met my mom?" This was Ye Sol's voice.

"I don't see why you have to do this," he heard Eun Sang reply. "What I do in my job hours has nothing to do with you."

"Promise me." Ye Sol's voice was high with urgency. Young Do moved closer. "You need to promise me you'll never speak a word to anyone about my mother."

"Why should I?" Eun Sang's lips trembled as she lifted her chin. "I don't owe you anything. Especially with the way you've treated me."

"Ya!" The slap cut through the autumn air like the sound of firecrackers. Eun Sang cradled her face. "Cha Eun Sang! You're a housemaid's daughter facing expulsion. You've nothing to loose. But don't mess with _my_ situation!"

Eun Sang looked on silently, and Young Do felt irritated with her. Why wasn't she fighting back?

"Ya, don't you ignore me. I asked you a question!" Kang Ye Sol raised her hand again, but this time Young Do stepped in and blocked the incoming slap.

"Kang Ye Sol, don't touch her," he tossed the warning carelessly, barely registering the girl's crestfallen expression. With a dark look in Eun Sang's way, he grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

He did not let go—and oh, did she protest—until they were well within the cafeteria. He tossed her into the social welfare seat.

"I'll say this only once, because everyone here can hear," he announced in the calmest of tones. "From today on, only I'm allowed to bother her." This declaration earned him strange looks across the room. He glowered back at everyone through low-hanging eyelids. "What? Would anyone like to disagree? Aigo, the new student has so many friends. Makes me wanna compete." He chuckled and cracked a few joints. "Step out and let's talk about it _nicely_."

At this, most of the on-lookers averted his eyes and turned away. He sat down satisfied and leaned against the chair.

"Why was Kang Ye Sol like that?" he asked. "What do you know about her mother?"

"That's none of your business."

"Fair enough. Except you seem determined to play punching bag with everyone in this damn school."

Eun Sang glared at him hard. "Who do you think I am? The lady friend of a mob boss? Threats are so vulgar."

"I happen to like threats. I like efficacy in general."

"Leave me alone. I can take care of myself." She bit her lips in frustration.

"I would _prefer_ you taking care of yourself. I don't like playacting hero rescues —"

"Ya! How can you call that a —"

"— but I keep seeing you doing nothing. Aren't you mad? Don't you want revenge? Why didn't you slap Kang Ye Sol back?"

She looked at him with eyes that widened and then drooped. "What's the point?" Her voice was flat. "At a place like this …."

"You should've hit her back. I know your parents didn't tell you this, but listen: force is a virtue." His tone was insistent. "I can't stand pacifists. Look, even poor countries scare everyone when they claim they've made a nuclear bomb."

Her nose wrinkled. "That's not funny. All you ever say are stupid things."

"And all you ever say are hurtful things," he complained, mockingly petulant. "My IQ's not bad you know? Back in the day, they tested all the incoming freshman."

"Oh yeah? If you're so smart, how come I always end up calling Chan Young for help?"

He scuffed with irritation. "I told you. I can't be wrong. The Russian lead is too specific. Lee Anna did it."

"Well, I've given things a good thought, and—" her eyes darted around animatedly "— and I think you've missed some things."

He looked at her with skepticism. "Go on."

"Motive." She set her hands on the table and inhaled. "You claimed it was a crime of passion."

"Uh, No."

"I mean, you claimed that someone may have did it in boredom, apathy, or inner subconscious turmoil."

Young Do raised a brow.

"But the timing is too perfect. Whoever did it thought about the crime very carefully" She poked a finger against her mouth corner. "The security cameras in and around the performance building happened to be down that week for inspection and repairs. The piano was scheduled to be delivered that Friday at 1:30 PM. But the delivery somehow occurred half an hour early, and so the tuning team did not arrive until 30 minutes after the delivery was made. During this time, the short-staffed concert hall was mostly empty. Students were in class. And the school assumed the piano would be untouched."

"I see … the window between 1 and 1:30 PM was the perfect time to commit the crime," Young Do concluded. "In the weeks following, the publicity events would have made it very difficult for the piano to be vandalized."

"Exactly." Eun Sang clapped her hands together and beamed. He realized she's rather enjoying this.

"Also, the _weapon_," she breathed. "What did the vandal use to carve that message? In the movies, the weapon is always key. You know, chainsaw, ice pick, sludge hammer."

His eyes narrowed.

"Cha Eun Sang. Aren't you enjoying this too much?"

"And why shouldn't I? I love serial killers and vengeful ghosts. Look, let's get back to the weapon."

With an inward smile, he gazed back at her consideringly.

"Take another look at that photo of yours." Young Do complied, tracing his eyes over the crudely carved letters and then over her features. "To carve into the piano like that, you'd need a proper knife of some sort. But the school has a metal detector at the entrance."

—

THE PLAYROOM WAS mostly empty and Young Do lounged lazily across the sofa.

"Why are you so distracted recently?"

He looked up from his cellphone to see Myung Soo descending the stairs.

"What is it this time?" His friend scrunched his face in concentration. "Your dad?"

"It's always my father. He doesn't count."

"Okay, then Kim Tan?"

"Tannie Pooh?" Young Do mused. "Why? He's been deported overseas."

"Someone has a faster bike? And you —"

"A girl."

Myung Soo froze. And then slowly expanded his eyes.

"I'm going to need you to stop." Young Do scowled. "You look like a petrified bat."

"So you mean a girl has a faster bike? And you want to —"

Young Do threw the nearest couch pillow at him.

The boy gasped. Covering his mouth, he half-whispered, "Oh my god, you mean a _girl _girl?"

Young Do gave him a pointed look.

"What, did you meet one at a nightclub? And now she's stuck on to you like glue? Or—or is she —"

"No, no, no, and no, you idiot."

"Daebak! Don't tell me…" Mysung Soo whipped his head to one direction and peeked at him sideways. "You actually LIKE a girl?"

Young Do sighed and pursed his lips.

"I'm not sure." He poised a finger under his chin. "Myung Soo, say there's someone who makes your blood quick and your pulse unbearable. Is that person a _person_? Or is she a phantom? A hallucination?"

Myung Soo blinked left and right. "You're … haunted by a psychedelic ghost and she's giving you heart attacks?"

Young Do threw up his arms in defeat. "Never. Mind. Go take a nap."

But then he returned to his cellphone photos and paused. "Actually, don't. I need you to do me a favor."

Myung Soo ripped off his jacket and declared, "I'm ready!"

"Put your clothes back on," he deadpanned. "You can take pictures right? I need you to do some spying for me."

"Yes sir, Agent Bond. Who are our targets?"

"Students in the music electives, especially the ones in classical music."

Myung Soo looked confused.

"Ya, you know, the dorks hacking away on cellos."

"What? You're mixing with those people now?"

"Not —"

His phone rang. A cursory glance at the screen obliterated his good humor.

"Yes?" he answered stonily.

"Your father wanted me to call with a reminder." The voice on the other end was sickening formal, sickening familiar. "You are expected tonight at Minister Jang's evening gala."

"Secretary Hwang," Young Do began with vicious overtones, "please tell my father I'm really, really busy."

The robotic reply was immediate: "Your father has left one other message: should you miss the event, he will meet with Minister Jang to discuss your engagement plans."

"How embarrassing." Young Do felt his jaws tighten uncomfortably. "Why does my father keep sharing our dirty laundry with mere secretaries?"

He hung up, burning sensation trapped in his throat.

—

THE LIGHTS WERE dim when Eun Sang entered Mango Six and took off her coat.

"Manager-nim, are the lights broken?" she asked when she spotted the man.

"Oh no, I'm shutting down." He pulled a few more switches and raised his glasses. "You're off tonight. Just got a call. Apparently someone's paying for us to close for the night."

"What? You are sure?"

"Yes, yes. Go home, Eun Sang ah. You work too hard."

Puzzled, she put her coat back on and exited the café. The evening had settled to a dusky gray, and cars were beginning to pass in glimmering pods of light.

She surveyed the sidewalk and saw him.

The orange motorcycle interrupted the faint night like a flash of meteor. He sat against it, all dark and tall and stretched out.

"What now?" Eun Sang demanded as she approached. "It was you, wasn't it? Why did you shut down the café?"

He looked at her and she stilled. His face was motionless now, almost timeless and statuesque.

"I need your help." His words were simple, direct.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I need you to come with me … to a place you won't like. I can't promise you won't have a bad time." He looked down before facing her anew.

"Tonight, talk to me, look at me. In a crowded ballroom, be that only person on my side."

Eun Sang frowned at him with increasingly intensity. But he looked back, steadfast. Like a tall window thrown apart to reveal a pitch-black night, the boy before her was terribly open, terribly frightening — and terribly magnetic. She wasn't sure she could understand _this_ Young Do either.

But the distress in his eyes was relatable. That much she knew. And for the first time ever, she faced a Young Do who wasn't all attitude or all rage. In the alignment of his features was a sadness so real, she thought she could reach out and touch it. _And what form might it take? _she wondered._ A gnarled tree in winter? An unforgiving cliff?_

She decided not to think further. To try to understand Young Do was to flirt with fire. And Eun Sang didn't know how she'd feel, burning.

Instead she reminded herself of the contract. Yes, she was under contract to be on his side.

"Well, hand over your helmet." She gave him the smallest of smiles. "And this time don't ride so fast.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Dear reviewers, thank you for the kind words. You guys make the writing experience worth it.

**A Little Fall of Rain**

Chapter Four

THE EVENING WAS coolly studded with burning lights as Eun Sang found herself tearing through the streets of Seoul — hanging on to Choi Young Do for dear life—once again.

Below her, his motorcycle roared and vibrated like some great beast. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine away the city and all its uncompromising modernity. Perhaps she was riding an ancient monster and he was an evil sorcerer about to devour her heart. Somehow this scenario felt less terrifying than attending an evening ball with the heir of Zeus Hotels.

But soon enough, the motorcycle silenced to rest and she felt a knock against her helmet.

"Ya." _Knock. _"Ya." _Another knock_. "Cha Eun Sang, wake up and get off." She opened her eyes and saw him smirking at her over his shoulder. "Unless you want to ditch the event for something more … intimate?"

She realized she was still holding him tightly and grimaced. Hobbling off, she handed him the helmet. "Um, where are we?"

The courtyard was surrounded by sleek, high-rising buildings. Young Do grabbed a garment bag from his bike and swung his keys with a free hand. "Follow me."

Uniformed doormen bowed as they passed through enormous glass doors gilt lettered with _Imperial Luxury Villas_. Inside, the lobby was ornately decorated in shades of gold and turquois, supplemented with wood and glass paneling. A marbled service desk hosted several more uniformed personnel.

"Please ring up Suite 17A," Young Do announced as he approached the desk.

"Of course, Mr. Choi." The service ladies bowed. "Ms. Yoo is expecting you."

_Ms. Yoo?_ Eun Sang wondered as they stepped into the elevator. It whirled in upward motion and opened to reveal a private foyer with enormous plants.

Young Do charged ahead, impatient, and knocked at the mahogany doors.

"You're so uncouth. I've told you to use the doorbell," Eun Sang heard as the doors opened. A girl stepped out. It was Yoo Rachel, the reigning queen of Jeguk High.

"Hello, Sister." Young Do's tone was a mix of taunting and familiarity.

Said sister glared at him sharply. "Why are you still dressed like this?"

He raised the garment bag, all attitude and nonchalance. "It'll take 10 minutes to change."

"Tacky," Rachel remarked with a sneer. "We aren't going to a high school prom, you—" She stopped abruptly as her eyes turned to Eun Sang.

"Who are you?"

Eun Sang opened her mouth to reply, but felt tongue-tied as Rachel narrowed her eyes. The queen bee's glare could've sharpened a butcher's cleaver.

"Who is she? And why is she with you?" Rachel turned to Young Do instead.

He snickered. "Only _you_ wouldn't recognize her. She's been the cafeteria main attraction since day one."

"You know I don't like to eat there. Can't mix with the plebes."

"Sister, only you could be this self-absorbed. Say hello to Cha Eun Sang."

Rachel frowned as she shifted her attention back to Eun Sang. "_She's _Cha Eun Sang? The dirt-poor vandal everyone talks about?" She looked incredulous. "Ya! Choi Young Do! This is a rich joke. I asked, why is she here with you?"

"The devil is here to collect payment."

"Excuse me?"

"Our warm family photo-shoot," he pronounced indifferently. "I cancelled it. And now you're in debt."

Rachel crossed her arms and breathed with aggravation, glancing back and forth between Eun Sang and her brother-to-be. "So what's going on here? What do you want?"

Young Do smiled crisply. "Cha Eun Sang needs to attend a ball and she's missing her fairy godmother … something like that."

Rachel froze.

He leaned on one foot and tapped a finger against the doorframe, expression threatening.

"Choi Young Do, you've really gone crazy," Rachel spat out slowly, eyes wide and furious. "I can't even—" She paused for effect. "You're bringing _her _to the gala? Are you trying to ruin yourself?"

"What?" he laughed lightly. "Is my sister worried for me?"

"Get serious. Your dad is going to kill you," Rachel pronounced, mouth corners gnarled. "There will be reporters and cameras. You can't show up with her. If it gets out that you date third-world beggars, no mother will want their daughter engaged to you."

"Bang!" Young Do clicked his tongue. "End game."

Eun Sang turned to him in alarm. He smiled back, pleased.

Rachel snapped a finger at them both. "Ya! Ya." She looked unimpressed. "You're a cry baby, Choi Young Do. What do you think you'll achieve? Rebellion is stupid when there are entire corporations at stake."

"Is that why," he replied in muted tones, "you're engaged to a guy who won't answer your calls?"

To Eun Sang's surprise, the indomitable queen looked briefly shaken. But a second more and she declared, "Fine, do what you want. Blow up your life. All the more reason for Mother's engagement to end. Having you for "brother" is a joke."

"That's too bad, Sister." Young Do seemed perfectly calm despite Rachel's hysterical warnings. "But you still owe me." He looked at Eun Sang pointedly.

Rachel flipped her hair in exasperation. "What, and she gets to borrow my wardrobe too? Why can't you do the usual rich-boy-poor-girl thing and take her on a shopping spree?"

"Throw a wad of bills at her? That's poor manners, Sister. Besides, you know I don't like to touch my father's dirty money."

The sister-to-be snorted. "Jinjja … said like someone who's about to ruin a very expensive engagement."

But Yoo Rachel relented and allowed them inside, glaring as Young Do plopped lazily on her pristine couch without invitation. She glanced at a clock and glowered. "Seriously, what schedule are you two running on? We'll be late." Gesturing at dumbstruck Eun Sang, she added, "well, hurry. Stop gaping at my furniture and come with me."

Eun Sang followed her down a hallway and through another set of doors. The room was perfumed and lush with color. She realized it was some sort of dressing room, complete with floor-to-ceiling closets and full-length mirrors.

"Evening dresses are in that corner." Rachel pointed in a general direction and glared when Eun Sang hesitated. "Well, why are you standing there? Go on, pick something."

_Choi Young Do, you're full of bad ideas_, Eun Sang thought and clenched her teeth. Treading awkwardly, she stepped in front of the dresses and picked the simplest one she could spot: a nondescript black gown.

Rachel looked sideways at her selection, slit-eyed. Her lips scrunched—as if in effort to stay cool—before bursting in a sigh. "Oh god no." She ripped the hanger from Eun Sang's hands and placed the dress back in its original place. "I don't care how you plan on helping Choi Young Do ruin his life, but try to look less terrible while doing it. You can't pull off haughty black."

She stepped back and assessed Eun Sang from head to toe. "It's your features …. They are so unrefined and lumpy."

Eun Sang bristled at her words. "I'm also confused and annoyed. Do you think I like this situation any more than you?"

The hostess did not bat an eye. "It doesn't matter how you feel. What I've noticed is that poor women can't afford to have preferences."

"YA! How could you?!"

"What? Mad? Then leave." She sneered. "No one's stopping you."

Eun Sang exhaled deeply and made her way towards the door. But the metal doorknob was an icy reminder and she stopped. Everything came back to her in a cacophony of helplessness: the piano, the chairwoman, the expulsion, the fine, her mom's hopes and dreams … Young Do's contract.

"Can't leave? I knew it." Rachel laughed and threw her a dirty look. "Well, let's not spend any more time together than necessary. Come here, and let me find something for you."

With expert efficiency, the girl began rummaging through her closet. Eun Sang observed her at work and realized there's something methodical about the way Rachel went through the dresses, looked back at her, and made snap decisions. _Well, she _is _heiress to RS International, _Eun Sang thought, wondering how inheritors took on their inheritances. Do they, like Rachel, magically develop qualities necessary to take on a position ordained at birth? _But what about Young Do? He doesn't seem like he'd ever be willing to run hotels._

"Aha!" Rachel exclaimed and produced a bundle of pink. "_This_. Dior peach-bloom silk chiffon, Grecian drape. Light, lovely, but ineffably elegant."

Eun Sang gaped.

Excitement forgotten, Rachel glared yet again. "Well? Hurry. Put it on."

Intimidated, she took on the dress and headed for the adjacent bathroom. The fabric felt feather-light as she carefully put it on. _It seems easy to tear, _Eun Sang noted with horror. _And very expensive._

"Um, thank you," she murmured as she stepped out.

Rachel spared her the smallest glance, directing her instead to the makeup counter. "For major events, I get my makeup, hair, and nail done hours before, and my skin treated day of," she told Eun Sang as she cleaned and moisturized her face. "But since this is an operation Choi Young Do, we'll have to make it fast."

In mere moments, Eun Sang was made up and ready to go. Rachel had resorted to minimum makeup, choosing some light foundation, lipstick, and eyeliner for the job. Her hair was loosely arranged in a chignon and pinned at the ends.

"Well." Rachel looked at her handiwork. "This will do. You'll be the most sloppily put together person at the event. But whatever."

With a note of envy, Eun Sang observed that the queen herself had been dressed and styled to perfection.

Again following the impatient click of high heels, Eun Sang joined Rachel and Young Do in the living room. The clock now read 8:15 PM, and Rachel seemed antsy with irritation.

At Eun Sang's entrance, Young Do looked up from his seat. He was now in classic tux and seemed older somehow. With a flash of awareness, Eun Sang could not help but to stare. What a fine sight he made, resting against that leather armchair. The clean lines of his well-tailored suit enhanced the sharpness of his cheekbones.

He met her gaze and whistled faintly. "Wow, wow, Rachel," he murmured, eyes still on Eun Sang. "I knew you're accomplished in general, but this is a delicious job well done."

Rachel traced his eyes towards Eun Sang and scuffed. "Ugh, stop. Can't deal with you two right now. I'm out of here." She checked her cellphone and grabbed a gem-studded purse from the table. "My car's ready. And no, I'm not giving rides. You two are on your own." She slipped into her coat and marched towards the door. "Try not to be late, and—" she gave Young Do a hard look "—do not show up in that motorcycle. Security's going to kick you out."

"Ya, your shrillness level is at a 10. I'm going to need you at 2."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Don't forget to close the door behind you. Ask my doorman for help if you don't have a ride. If anything's missing from my place tomorrow, I'm going to assume _she_ stole it."

With a parting glare, the queen left her royal suites. The door slam following her departure heralded a sudden silence.

"Well." Young Do stood and rubbed at his neck. "That's the sister. Wait until you meet her mother. My father's taste in women is unparalleled."

Eun Sang raised her brows, at loss for words.

"Don't worry. Car's going to be here in 10. Now, if only—" he struggled with his shirt collar "—I can get this properly sorted."

She looked at him and choked with laughter. Choi Young Do, bad boy extraordinaire, was nicely tuxedoed and almost respectable … Except here he was with his shirt partially open, the collars crumbled, and bow tie slung over one shoulder.

"Here—" she approached him and reached for his shirt "—let me."

The lower buttons she re-arranged without difficulty. But as she worked on the final ones, his hot breath brushed against her hands like the licks of a flame. She could feel his gaze crashing against her (oh, who wouldn't — not with those eyes), but she methodically straightened his collar. Bow tie next. She reached for the black silken cloth. It slithered slowly off his shoulder.

He did not bend for her. And so she had to tiptoe to position the necktie, her hands inevitably brushing against the skin of his neck. With an inward jolt, she realized he'd shivered.

Everything felt a bit too warm as she tried to concentrate on the tie. _How do you work these things again? _Her fingers were shaky, clumsy. It didn't help that he'd long stopped speaking, and a charged silence had enveloped them within its embrace.

With some difficulty, she finally pulled and jerked the necktie—and him within it—into submission. It rested mostly symmetrical between his shirt collar and she breathed with satisfaction. With a final tug at the bow, Eun Sang withdrew her hands.

Or tried to. He caught one within his grasp and leaned forward.

Startled, she tried to calm her rising pulse. _Stop it, stop it. _Her mind was in an uproar. _Doesn't matter what he _looks_ like. Focus on the terrifying, all-around awful personality._

But those thoughts too faded when his reached for her. A single, solitary finger glided along her cheek. His eyes were obsidian black.

"I don't understand." Young Do's voice was a husky, dying ember. "You really shouldn't be pretty." He leaned in close and she could smell hints of pine in his cologne. "A funny chin … stumpy nose … sleepy eyes. But why do you make me want —"

His phone rang and Eun Sang almost melted with relief.

"Car's here," he told her shortly and turned away.

She could not meet his eyes as they headed out the building and entered the waiting car. Soon they were off and the city once again whirled past in shimmering impressions.

Eun Sang sat rigidly and faced with window with determination. But a blast of loud music obliterated her self-imposed calm.

"What's this? Death metal? My ears are bleeding." She winced and covered her ears.

Young Do half-smiled. "Now I have your attention?"

"Can't you turn it off?"

"Why? It's soothing." He looked out at the traffic and made a face. "Aish .. I hate chauffeured cars. I feel restless whenever I let someone else take the wheel."

"Turn off that crazy noise and let me ask you a real question."

He turned towards her, brows raised in anticipation. The music stopped.

Eun Sang looked away. "So what's this engagement Rachel kept mentioning?"

"Business deal." His tone was laced with cynicism. "My life … in exchange for Zeus becoming the official hotel of the Seoul Olympics."

She glanced his profile and tried to wrap her mind around the stakes. "Sounds impressive."

"Jealous?"

"You wish."

He stilled in a rare moment of seriousness. "For people like you … do you marry for love? Call someone "appa" because you respect him? Assume people are mostly good?"

Eun Sang considered his words and sighed a little. "What now? Are you romanticizing poverty? I should hit you."

"Please do." He grinned in challenge. "But then again, isn't it the dream of every poor girl to marry a chaebol heir and live a charmed life?"

She pursed her lips and conceded to his point. "Fine, I guess the poor also loves to romanticize wealth."

"Dreamer's instinct," he replied, eyes unrelentingly sharp. "That is, to fantasize about what you don't and can't ever have."

—

When the car door opened and the blinding flashes invaded his vision, Young Do made a grab for the girl's hand. Not in worry or care — but in instinctual habit.

For years he's attended red carpet events alone. But the times he'd attended with his mother had been miserable affairs: she'd fret over what to wear; the cameras frightened her; the gossiping corporate wives hurt her. And her hand. It always, always trembled badly as he held it within his smaller palm soon as they exited the car.

But his hands were big now. And Eun Sang didn't seem to be doing too badly. She only wobbled slightly (Rachel's shoes being typically killer) as they walked their initial steps down the red-carpeted path.

Before them, the newly constructed Museum of Korean National History stretched vast and shiny like some mythical monument. Huge banners everywhere heralded its triumphant opening: _In Celebration of Korean Heritage — an evening gala, sponsored by friends of the MKNH. _Young Do absorbed all this pomp and circumstance. A 250 billion won project, the museum was Minister Jang's crowning achievement.

Of course, his father was a major donor. And Young Do himself was expected to show up tonight and spend the entire evening wooing Minister Jang's daughter.

_ Oopsie, _he thought snidely and held Eun Sang's hand a little tighter.

"Ya, Choi Young Do," she whispered at him furiously, "I don't think I signed up for this kind of — omo omo, look over there."

Frowning, he craned his neck to see what had distracted her. Eun Sang was presently gaping at someone or something.

" I can't believe it" she gasped "that man …"

Young Do looked again and saw some K-entertainment celebrities.

"Is that _Lee Min Ho_? The actor? In the flesh?"

Young Do looked at her starstruck face and made a noise of disbelief.

"Aigo, he's so handsome in real life!"

"Ya! Cha Eun Sang! Are you crazy?" Young Do practically snarled, reporters and cameras be damned. "My skin's way more fair!"

She looked at him funny.

"And my legs. Look again. Does he have such nice long legs?"

A flash of camera their way silenced whatever retort Eun Sang had in mind. She tugged at his hand and whispered with horror, "They're taking pictures of us too? But we're not famous."

He squeezed her hand in brief warning. "Can't you look more delighted in my company? This needs to be properly convincing."

"What do you—ya! Choi young do, are these pictures going on the Internet? What to do? People will think—

"People will think Choi Young Do is very taken and definitely not available," he finished for her, smiling just before another camera flashed. She was silent as he waved at the reporters and stood to full height. Following another spate of lightening, the cameras finished their devouring and moved on to the next victim.

With rue, Young Do looked down at their tightly linked hands. They'd both been so nervous that the initial handholding out the car had never changed to a more fashionable pose. Breathing deeply, he gave Eun Sang a small wink and looked ahead.

The museum's grand floor was imposing and spacious, with semi-translucent glass walls paneled with Korean classical paintings. Potted flowering trees occupied many corners, and fanciful food arrangements dotted the landscape. Giant paper lanterns floated above everyone as uniformed wait-staff carried trays of champagne. Just below a small flight of stairs was the dance floor, where a live orchestra was readying to play.

The posh atmosphere was beginning to make him nauseated and he grabbed a glass of champagne. "Want some?" He tilted the glass at Eun Sang.

"Ah, no thanks." She surveyed the surroundings, gulped, and smoothed her lips shyly.

"These events, for all the glittery mess, are dreadfully boring." He toasted to the air. "My mom always hated them."

"Hated?"

"Yes, past tense."

He met her alarmed look with a thin smile. "No, not what you think. She's alive and all. Ran away. Daddy and I do not make the most pleasant living company."

He anticipated her reactions hungrily, searching for judgment and horror. But her knotted brows smoothed in open melancholy as she exhaled audibly. "My sister ran away too," she offered, eyes lovely with sincerity, "I never knew we'd —"

"Young Do ah, good to see you again. Your father said … "

He turned around to see Esther pause with surprise.

"… said he's going to be late," she finished haltingly, eyes on Eun Sang, likely shocked to see Young Do with a girl she didn't recognize.

Recovering with a stiff smile, Esther stretched her hand towards Eun Sang. "Young Do, who is this young lady? Have we met before?"

"Don't bother, Mother," a familiar voice jeered. Rachel joined them and crossed her arms. "She's the daughter of no one you'd consider noteworthy."

Young Do smirked at the mother-daughter duo and gestured at Eun Sang with exaggerated flourish. "CEO Lee, meet my darling Cha Eun Sang."

Esther's response was no less than expected: "_What_? This is a … surprise." She did not hide her displeasure. "I was under the impression an engagement to Minister Jang's daughter is well underway."

"You're under the wrong impression," Young Do replied shortly and turned to leave. Eun Sang, hand still trapped in his, had no choice but to follow.

He made wide, fast strides and knew she was struggling to keep up. But he wanted to traverse some distance and so did not stop until they were under the canopy of a flowering tree, not far from the live orchestra.

Beside him, Eun Sang breathed deeply. "You are exhausting."

"Non-stop fun with Choi Young Do," he told her drily. "And things are about to get more exciting."

Minister Jang's wife, he knew, had already seen him. With Eun Sang. And was presently making her way over, mouth stretched wide in a smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Ready to waltz?" He slipped his hand around Eun Sang's waist and easily maneuvered them both into the dance floor.

They flailed a while — Eun Sang's horrified expression in tow—before Young Do nearly groaned. "Seriously? You don't know how to waltz?"

She hit him with a free hand. "It's not a skill they teach at most part time jobs."

He grabbed her roving hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Never mind, just follow my lead." He tugged at her waist to bring her a little closer. "Be lighter on your feet. For the—"

He hissed in pain. "Cha Eun Sang. You just stepped on my foot!"

"Man up. Waltzing was _not_ on the contract."

"Fine, fine. But can you relax? And stop stomping like a dinosaur?"

Features knotted in concentration, Eun Sang looked down at her own feet, then at the other dancers, and made adjustments. She kept trying and trying until her movements agreed with the music. He eyed her scrunched mouth corners and wanted to laugh. She was one of those no-nonsense people who always tried so hard at everything.

The orchestra began a slower Viennese waltz and they glided with newfound ease. He could tell, by the liveliness of her eyes, that she was beginning to enjoy herself. She adjusted her position against him and he felt the movement of her waist underneath his fingers.

It was the slightest of motions, but Young Do's hand burned. Was it her dress that was so soft and silky? Her entire form—so close, so close—seemed a forbidden fruit in full blush … His eyes trailed from her lower lip, to dimple of her chin, to the hollows of her exposed collarbone.

"Can you not grip my hand so hard? You're crushing me."

"Ah, sorry."

Eun Sang looked at him disapprovingly. "And don't get me started on this evening. Using me like this. Nearly everything you do is morally and ethically wrong."

"Ya, think of it differently." He tilted his head at her, lips curled. "Think of me as an irresistible ally. I save you from the chairwoman; you save me from holy matrimony. Dodging bullets together is totally sexy. Especially if you change into full body leather."

She gasped in outrage. "Jinjja..! You're terrible."

Smirking, he leaned in closer. "Should I feel sorry and think of ways to entertain you?" he whispered into her ear. "The terrible things I can tell you about half the people in this room."

He looked around at the usual gang: big name politicians, judges, businessmen, government officials. A few faces he even recognized as big shots from Japan and China. Many were his father's partners in crime. Growing up, Young Do learned that playing big meant playing dirty. Zeus Hotel's rapid expansion across Asia was practically forged on this motto as his father sent bribes, evaded tax, and flouted various labor and environmental regulations.

But ever since his mother disappeared into the unknown, Young Do began wondering when the day of reckoning would come — the time when Zeus would sizzle under the scourge of hellfire and brimstone.

His eyes narrowed when he spotted the son of a prominent Chinese official, who was presently gurgling with laughter, with a woman on each arm. The last time this kid had been in Seoul, he'd hosted hot tub parties in Zeus's most expensive presidential suite, and drove around in a gleaming Lamborghini. All on Choi Dong Wook's tab.

"Ya, Choi Young Do." His attention shifted back to Eun Sang as she knocked on his shoulder. "Don't you think three waltzes in a row is enough? I want something to drink."

He bowed with excessive charm and led her to the edge of the dance floor, by a table overflowing with refreshments.

Eun Sang popped a strawberry in her mouth and went for the champagne. He watched her survey the scene with fresh-eyed wonder and felt a soft pang of amusement.

"Ouh! Young Do ah, is it really you?"

Holding back annoyance, he turned to see who was it this time. But the approaching man and woman did not stir immediate recognition.

"So you've forgotten me!" The lady pouted.

"I'm sorry." Young Do bowed at the two guests. "And you are?"

"You'll know my father, Nam Lee Soo."

"Ahh, yes. CEO of Gourmet Royale."

"I'm his daughter, Soo Jin." She offered him her hand, and tilted her head towards the man. "And this is my husband, Moon Hyuk."

Young Do bowed.

"Time flies! You're properly grown now." Nam Soo Jin looked at him appreciatively. "Before I went away to Moscow, you used to come to our place with your parents. You never talked much, but you loved to play with our dogs."

He laughed at the faint memory. "Is that so?"

"Aigo, and who's your very pretty date?" The lady turned to Eun Sang and smiled.

"Hello, I'm Cha Eun Sang." She bowed, before looking up with a hesitant look. "Forgive me, but are you Nam Soo Jin … the famous pianist?"

The question was unexpected and Young Do almost arched a brow. Eun Sang yanked his hand discreetly. Realization hit him in a flash. _Why, you observant, thoughtful girl._

"So you listen to classical music?" The lady looked pleased.

"Oh, I've loved your playing for years!" Eun Sang gushed, hands clasped against her chest. Young Do almost snorted. _Isn't she being too much? _"Your rendition of the Mozart piano concertos is the best. So clear and exuberant."

To his surprise, the pianist bought the exaggerated praise. "Oh my, I never meet anyone at these events who've anything serious to say about my playing." She looked very happy now. Turning to Young Do, she added, "You must bring Eun Sang to my concert next Friday. I'll be playing Chopin with the National Philharmonic. The concert's already sold out, but—" she winked at them both "— I'll get you nice seats."

They both bowed deeply as she sauntered away with her husband.

"Since when do you listen to Mozart?" Young Do asked when the pair was out of earshot.

"Since never," she returned, beaming, "but I do have a good memory for details."

He glanced at her with fresh interest.

"Nam Soo Jin. The Chairwoman dropped her name when we social welfares were called into her office and accused of being vandals." Eun Sang tapped a finger against her chin. "She apparently picked out that piano for Jeguk."

Young Do whistled low. "Our New Student has half a brain after all."

Hissing, Eun Sang raised her arm.

He dodged and laughed. "Now, now. If you hurt me I won't bring you to that concert."

Her reaction he did not see — for that moment a hand weighed down his shoulder, and a horribly flat voice droned,

"Sir, your father is here."

He turned at saw the secretary.

"He waits for you outside, by the main fountain."

Young Do shook his head and loosened his bow tie.

_ Game time._

—

Under the frail moonlight, his father formed a commanding mass of dark shadows.

Young Do approached the fountain, the clicks of his shoes a steady counterpoint to the drumming of his heart.

"Ya, Abuji. .." He tried to sound slick. "I never knew you're so romantic. Picking a late night rendezvous, under a full moon…by the garden fountain. Were your girlfriends so lucky to —"

He staggered away and willed away the pain. Even in the dark, his father had such good —

_BAM. _Another punch.

"Oh good, I see you are bleeding," Choi Dong Wook finally spoke, looking at his son dispassionately. "That face is no longer good for the dance floor. Take that cheap girl of yours and scram."

Young Do tasted blood and spat. Panting, he nonetheless sneered, "Abuji, why does this feel like a victory?"

"How dare you? Don't assume the engagement's called off. With some damage control, even—"

"Don't waste your time." In this, Young Do was smug. "By tomorrow morning, the photos will be everywhere. People will think, "ya.. this Choi Young Do is really enamored with a housemaid's daughter.""

His father now raged visibly, but Young Do wanted to push it further: "This sort of thing … the public is going to eat it up. Every common fool loves a rags-to-riches romance." He flicked imaginary dirt from a sleeve. "I'll become very popular. "The Nation's Chaebol Heir." I wonder … should I run for president? Audition for Kpop?"

"Choi Young Do, don't test your luck." His father's voice shook faintly. "Or I'll—"

"You'll what?" he taunted, halfway sing-song, halfway a snarl. "Make us break up? Ship her to Venezuela? So what? I'll date another housemaid's daughter. I'll date a whole series of them. Even worse than dating a poor girl, I'll become a sleazeball and a cheater. Just like you. How .. engaged do you think I'll become then?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Don't bother. I'll self-detonate in a blaze of glory if that's what it'll take. You can't beat me in a zero-sum game." Young Do paused, before adding, "you ruined Mom's life. Don't try to ruin mine."

At this, his father stilled. A sigh later, and he sounded almost gentle: "Young Do, at 18, I too was like you."

"Don't—"

"I disobeyed my parents when I married your mother. But you know what? In the end it was a mistake."

The noise of cicadas sounded too loud, and all at once, Young Do felt sick. In his mind, his mother's broken sobs blended into the darkness.

"You'll remember. She was miserable. We fought bitterly. She never understood the rules of my position."

_Ah yes, the "rules" of your position, _Young Do thought darkly. _Corruption, worshipping money … infidelity._

His father shifted on his feet and looked at the moon. "What people call "love" is very brief. It's not worth any type of sacrifice." He pocketed his hands and looked back at Young Do. "There are many beautiful women in the world. Engagement — even marriage — changes nothing. You can still have fun."

Young Do wanted out before the hate engulfed him whole.

"Abuji," he spat, "you're not qualified to give advice."

—

Eun Sang waited by a flowering tree, feeling sleepy. The night was bright, flashy, and fizzy. The spinning dancers before her formed a kaleidoscope of colors, and it was all beginning to make her dizzy.

She sipped champagne and yawned.

But then a fast, moving projectile. Tall, dark, and menacing. Young Do cut across the sea of pastel dancers like a panther amongst prey. Eun Sang straightened and blinked. His eyes were on her as he moved forth in powerful strides. _Grim reaper? _She thought weakly. _Avenging angel? King of the underworld?_

He took her hand and grazed his lips against her ear, whispering, "we need to go."

Eun Sang searched his face and gasped. Blood struggled out his lips, and what was beginning to be a bruise showed against his cheekbone. "What on earth —"

"Not now."

The night air prickled her cheeks as they stepped out. She hugged herself and searched Young Do for answers. "What now?"

"We go." He threw his jacket against her and took her hand yet again. She struggled to match his steps as they marched onto the street.

They were in Jongno-gu, not far from Gwanghwamun Plaza, and the sidewalk was thankfully well-paved. Her heels made frantic clicks as passerby pedestrians looked at them in curiosity.

"You need to tell me what happened," she said in a firmer tone.

Young Do slowed, smiling bitterly. "I took on Julius Caesar."

"What?"

"My father was not thrilled to see me make myself un-engage-able."

Eun Sang shook off his hand and frowned. "Why are you doing this?"

"One, I like flirting with danger." He made the count-off with his fingers. "Two, I like pissing off my father. Three, I wanted to see you in a dress."

She shook her head vigorously. "Stop joking. What you've done doesn't seem smart." Biting her lips, she continued, "From what I read in newspapers, things never end well for disobedient heirs. I'm saying this seriously. Remember that Samsung heiress? The one with the middle-class boyfriend? Well, _she_ ended up very alone in New York and very dead."

He smirked. "Aww, is Eun Sang ie worried about this big bad boy?" His smile dropped. "Well don't. I've been pissing off Daddy dearest for years. And when it comes to things I really want, he knows he can't win."

His flippancy was beginning to irritate her. "Ya! How can you be so casual about this?"

"Because I literally have nothing to lose. That's the power of waging total war."

"That's a lie. What if he takes away your inheritance?"

"The tacky hotels? Don't care."

"Fine. Your money. Your allowance. Your bike. Your clothes. Your smug style."

"Time to find a job."

"Then your _shelter_."

"Who cares if there's a roof as long as there's a ground?"

"Oh yeah?" Eun Sang contested hotly. "What if he kills you?"

"Can't be bothered. Literally."

"Then me … what if he comes after me?"

Young Do stopped. He pressed his lips together and considered her words. "He won't. I can promise that."

"_Promise_? Isn't that a stretch?"

He reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I can. Because I'm the Korean Paris Hilton, and just as leggy."

She froze before spluttering in confusion. "_What_?"

"Ya, have you ever searched my name online? The top auto suggest is "Choi Young Do girlfriend"."

"Wh-why would anyone—"

"Aish, don't hurt my feelings. I'm a real life chaebol heir at the height of my beauty." He posed, hands under his chin.

She was speechless.

"I plan on going very public." He smirked and took her hand close. "In a few days, anyone wondering whether Choi Young Do has a girlfriend will see photos of us … making out on a beach, making out on a Ferris wheel, making out on—"

"You want to die?"

He sighed and inclined his head. "The point is, information is a powerful thing. If all of Korea is following Cha Eun Sang's Cinderella romance, there's no way you can disappear without dragging down Zeus with you."

She frowned with disbelief.

"What? Don't believe me?" He gave her a tight-lipped smile, flicking her forehead. "How should I convince you? A tattoo? I'll ink your name on my arm, and show it off while riding my—"

"YAAA! You're dead. Really dead!"

He took off running while she chased on.

—

Notes:

PLEASE REVIEW! Things are getting busy now that the holidays are over. =( I'll need all the encouragement I can get.

1. There is NO engagement drama ahead. So don't freak. I've more exciting plotlines in mind.

2. The Lee Min Ho cameo is a joke (since I exiled Kim Tan from my universe).

3. The Samsung heiress is a reference to Lee Yoon Hyung


	5. Chapter 5

**A Little Fall of Rain**

Chapter Five

Another morning and Jeguk High stood in view like a malignant promise. Eun Sang made her way through the school entrance, still in beggar shoes without the chauffeured car and million-won smirk.

"Omo omo. Look! There she is." She heard voices behind her and tried to stand tall. _No matter, _Eun Sang mentally prepared herself. _Social welfare, vandal … and now one more label isn't going to hurt._

Yet the usual pride she had felt was undone. Exactly what was this messy thing she's gotten herself into? This limb-tangling affair with Choi Young Do.

"Wow, jinjja. My omma told me poor girls are really aggressive. You have to watch out for them, you know?"

A round of snickering. "Ya, look at these pictures. Oh my god … "

She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to ignore the stinging in her cheeks. She hadn't been able to bring herself to look at the gala photos online._Maybe there is no heaven_, she wondered with desperation. _Maybe my appa can't watch me from above. So he's not disappointed._

"I mean, it's easy to climb ladders when your legs are wide open."

Someone clucked their tongue. "Right? Aigoo, I thought she was just another social welfare he bullied. But I guess that's the advantage of being pretty."

"The dark overlord might make you his mistress."

"Ya ya ya! Shut up. What if she hears you? We have to be afraid of her now. Or else Choi Young Do might set your hair on fire."

_Could you, Choi Young Do? _Eun Sang wondered. _Set them on fire too? Because I'm feeling the burn right now._

But Lucifer was not incinerating anyone. At least not today. For that moment Eun Sang's received a text:

**Ditching school today. Miss me? Does it hurt to cry? Well too bad … no refunds for your heart.**

"Unbelievable—!" Eun Sang stopped herself and fumed a little. _Choi Young Do. Who does he think he is?_ Owner of the universe and master comedian? He was always playing a massive joke on the world. That is, at everyone else's expense.

Supremely irritated, she stuffed her phone back in her skirt pocket. A moment more and it buzzed again with another text.

**Today people will be mean. Just punch them if you're mad.**

Eun Sang groaned into her hands. _Not funny. And what a giant asshole._

The warning bell sounded and she ran to reach her locker before class. The hasty progression through hallways brought impressions of pointing fingers and matted whispers. Eun Sang tried hard to tune it all out.

"What's up with these pictures?"

She groaned and rolled her eyes at Chan Young, who waited by her locker phone in hand. "You too?" She worked through the combination, grabbed a textbook, and threw in her lunch with impatience. "I've had enough and it's only morning."

""Dear friend, even I have secrets,"" Chan Young quoted with his mild, grave voice. "So this was what you meant?" He raised his phone. "I thought you told me you're too busy to date. Why Choi Young Do? You're going to be knee-deep in trouble."

"Chan Young ah." She wanted her voice to be gentle, to be calm — to sound like she was in perfect control of her destiny. She paused a moment to let the panic pass, before asking, "Do you trust me?"

"Well, yes, of course."

"Then trust me." She gave him a look. "I'm practical and hardworking. I don't ever do things on impulse. You know that right?"

"Well, yes, of course." Chan Young was however looking worried. Eun Sang knew her words sounded too much like a self-calming mantra.

"I'm doing this in rational self-interest," she continued, her own voice sounding nervous.

Chan Young's forehead knotted in confusion, but he had no chance to question her further. The final bell for class rang and they went their separate ways.

Her first class was literature — an uneventful period until the teacher made an announcement:

"Now that we're done with midterms, everyone's going to pair up for an end of semester project. Chose someone with whom you'll work well. The project's worth 25% of your final grade."

At this, everyone stirred into motion and made beelines for their favorite friend or work buddy. Eun Sang, blinking, remained alone at her desk.

"All right, I assume everyone has a partner?"

She raised her hand timidly. "Teacher, I need a partner."

"Oh? You don't have one?" The instructor peered at her and reached for the roll-call sheet. "Who else doesn't have a partner?"

Silence. Eun Sang resolved to look woolen as classmates turned around in mock sympathy.

"That's weird. This class is even in number. Everyone should—" the teacher paused over the names in her hand "—ah! That's right. Choi Young Do. He's absent today. Don't worry, I'll assign him as your partner."

_Oh, I worry._

When class was over, Eun Sang ambled through the hallways preoccupied, wondering how she was going to get Young Do to work on a project when he never even turned in homework. _Threats? Bribes? No .._ She wasn't sure how to motivate the devil himself.

"Omo omo, Cha Eun Sang?!" She heard a boyish croon from behind. "Hyung's new wife?"

She turned around, eyes narrowed. "Hyung's new _what?_"

A rather unfamiliar boy caught up to her and waved cheerfully. "Hello, I'm Jeguk High's 'fresh spring water', Jo Myung Soo. Also known as hyung's wife number two."

She was speechless.

"Ya, you're more uptight than I imagined." This Jo Myung Soo tiled his head and examined her with Bambi eyes. "Are you sure you're the girl making him sexy—" he made some kissy noises "—with desire?"

"_What_?"

"He told me! He said there's a girl who makes his blood quick. Or something like that." He scratched his forehead. "Anyway, give me your phone."

"Why should I?"

"Ya! Choi Young Do's order!"

She frowned and handed it over with reluctance. Myung Soo entered something and returned her phone.

"Don't look repulsed! It's my number. Hyung said to give it to you."

"What for?"

"I don't know!" He made a flower pose and grinned. "Just so you have it."

"All right. I'm not going to ask." Eun Sang turned to go, humor already short from the morning.

"Ya, wait. Wait!" He caught up to her and handed her an envelope.

"What now? What's this?"

"It's for hyung. Secrete spy photos." He winked at her, stupendously pleased. "You can pass it to him when you two aren't—" he wiggled his brows up and down "—you know, busy with stuff."

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about," Eun Sang snapped, eyeing Myung Soo's suggestive smile. "… But I'll hand these to him."

He crossed his arms and considered her with half-lidded suspicion. "What? Can't be. Don't tell me you haven't seen him without his shirt on."

Eun Sang slowly backed away.

"Ya, ya don't run! Let me tell you about _perfection_."

To her horror, Myung Soo pursued her doggedly.

"Choi Young Do's body is a cross between Michelangelo's David and the Greek god Adonis. Have _seen_ the muscles? You won't experience true beauty until you run your hands over it. Seriously. Cha Eun Sang? Where are you going, Cha Eun Sang?"

—

"Abuji, always making me miss school like this…" Young Do slid open the window shade. "Can't I file for child abuse?"

The morning sun flooded over them in a brilliant flash and Dong Wook squinted in irritation. Straightening a copy of the _Wallstreet Journal_, he replied humorlessly, "Oh please. It's not as if I don't know what you really do in school."

Young Do scuffed and looked out the window. Boring. Nothing but clouds in monochrome gray. He's always been amazed by how lifeless the sky can be. How expansive, empty, and silent. If the airplane came apart and tossed everyone in free fall, hardly a soul on ground would hear the screams.

"Where are we going this time? Hong Kong? Kyoto? Bali?"

His father set down his newspaper and stared. "Why is your face still like this?"

"My abuji throws good punches."

"Don't be cheeky. Always covered with bruises and cuts. People will think my son is a gangster." He checked his watch and frowned. "We'll have to ask Secretary Kim for her concealer."

Young Do narrowed his eyes. "Should've asked when she was over at your office without her shirt on."

His father ignored him with perfunctory calm, gesturing at an assistant._Amazing_, Young Do noted as the aide brought over a folder, _I can piss off anyone and everyone … except my father._

"The briefing papers on our upcoming deal." Dong Wook gestured at the folder. "Read."

Young Do tossed the documents on top an armrest. "Don't want to."

"Given you've ruined your engagement," his father began, voice even, "it's good your IQ's high. Because with proper effort you might re-gain my good graces." He held up the folder. "Otherwise I might really punish that girl."

Young Do bit his tongue and took the papers.

A quick scan through unveiled the general picture. Continuing an uninterrupted streak of overseas expansion, Zeus was looking to build more hotels. This time in some Chinese city called Chongqing. Typical stuff, really.

"So off we go to bribe some officials." He closed the folder and stretched back in his seat. "Abuji, you sure it's going to work? China's pretty crowded. Where are we going to find the space?"

"There's always room if enough money's paid."

Young Do clicked his tongue. "True fact. But who are we paying this time?" He picked up the briefing papers — pausing as his eyes caught a familiar name.

"Li … Keran. Mayor Li? Seriously, Abuji?"

"He helped us with our Beijing branch. So we know he's reliable."

Young Do breathed through his teeth. "You mean corrupted."

"Same thing."

He lingered over the report, reviewing the growth models analysts have put together. True. Zeus was making a lot of money from its Chinese hotels; it made sense to open another. But these days they were expanding too fast, with branches opening in places he's never visited and never plan on visiting.

An attractive stewardess brought over coffee, the porcelain cups clinking precariously as she bent over. Dong Wook reach to help. In silence Young Do watched as his father's hands lingered too long over hers.

How he filled out his clothes with heavy confidence, this Choi Dong Wook! Powerful, distant, and terrifying. And god knows Young Do has tried to emulate his father. Power is pleasurable — Young Do's made too many people cower and cry to not know that. Emotional bonds only go so far … but power tied others to him with an iron chain of fear.

When breakfast had long finished and the pilot announced their initial descent, Young Do was however compelled to speak of something entirely different:

"Ya, Abuji … let me ask you something."

No response.

"Did you know that omma's dream growing up was to own a simple bakery or café?"

"Hmm … what?" Dong Wook looked his way absent-mindedly.

"I said, did you know that omma—"

"Choi Young Do, are you having mommy issues again?" He now had his father's full attention. "I thought we'd resolved that. You know I've spent a fortune on psychotherapists. I even allowed you to keep a dog."

"Are you serious, abuji?"

"I know I wasn't around much when you were growing up. Your mom may have made you soft. But it's not anything a good judo match can't solve." CEO Choi fixed his cuff links. "I was sure you'd properly toughened up. What's brought this about?"

_Probably her. _Young Do looked away and turned to his phone. The photos from the gala weren't very good — he was too stiff and she too alarmed. But something about Eun Sang's face reminded him of his mother. He considered the thought for a moment.

Ah. It's her bright eyes. They seemed to be constructed of dragonfly wings, metamorphosed in mornings so luminous one only whispers for them in brief dreams.

_Easy to crush, _he concluded darkly.

—

The day was barely half-over and Eun Sang felt exhausted. Faking courage took special energy of its own. As she sat near the window with her lunch untouched, she almost wished she were back at her old school.

"What's this? You're wearing our uniform too?"

She looked up to see Kang Ye Sol with two other girls.

"Some upgrade. New clothes and a rich boyfriend. What's next? A company?" one of the girls snarled. "I'd like to learn your craft. Won't you teach it to me?"

Eun Sang set down her fork. "Let me be. My mood's not good today. I'll fight if I have to."

_Rip! _Her necktie came undone. "YA!"

The girl held it up and laughed shortly. "See these printed little crowns?" She shoved the tie close to Eun Sang's face. "Well, you can't wear this. Not if you don't actually _have_ a crown."

"If only you'd really gotten expelled when you vandalized our school piano."

Eun Sang stood, hands clenched, ready to—

Someone shoved her back in her seat.

It was Yoo Rachel.

"Kang Ye Sol," the Queen's voice was icy and bored. "Don't you have better things to do? Move."

"Ya, Rachel, don't act high and mighty just because you're engaged to Kim Tan," the girl challenged. "It's not like you have any real friends."

"_Friends_." The RS heiress rolled her eyes. "Redundant when you're rich, smart, and beautiful."

"Is that so? Then why are you playing sidekick to the social welfare?" The trio crossed their arms.

"I've already told you: leave." Rachel's glare was dangerously volatile.

"What? … Ohhh, I see. You're Choi Young Do's servant now?"

The slap resounded across the cafeteria as heads turned to look at Rachel. She stood motionless before a crying Ye Sol. Her friends, cooing in sympathy, led the girl away.

Pissed, Rachel turned on her next: "You. Learn from Moon Joon Young and transfer immediately. You don't belong here."

Eun Sang sat down and picked up her fork, making a show of indifference.

Sighing, Rachel joined her at the table. Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, she looked sideways at Eun Sang and laughed. "But then, I suppose Moon Joon Young never fancied himself the heroine of a high school romance."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You poor girls have such twisted notions about rich men. Choi Young Do's not Gu Jun Pyo, you know."

"You have no right to assume what kind of notions —"

"What do you like about him?" Rachel pressed on. "Money? Looks?"

"I can't even. It's none of your business."

"Then his bad boy status?" She smiled wickedly. "His leather jackets? The orange motorcycle?"

Eun Sang could not reply.

"Forget it … You think you can unleash all your maternal caring and change him? I can't stand girls like you."

"_Excuse me_? Girls like me?"

Rachel showed teeth. "Wholesome, nice, ajumma-in-training. No one's innocent by age 18. So when I see you prancing around wide-eyed, I smell pretension."

"You don't even know me."

"And you don't know us. You can't even imagine the forces that have shaped our upbringing." She narrowed her eyes, before adding, "and you shouldn't ever know."

Eun Sang sat straight, taken aback.

"Myth of Icarus," the Queen pronounced in perfect English. "Fly too high and your wings will melt. All that'll be left is the stinging of seawater and the silence of drowning."

—

Mayor Li's living room was a clashing array of expensive things: blue and white porcelain, an enormous tank of exotic fish, black modernist furniture. All this was surrounded by horrible wallpaper of pink Rococo design.

Young Do frowned and peered closely at the walls, checking its floral pattern for signs of danger. Perhaps the politician had sniper guns hidden behind each explosion of flowers.

"Your son, Mr. Choi?" Li Keran, lounged in a plush sofa, spoke in accented Korean.

Young Do bowed half-heartedly.

"Perhaps Korean boys are more obedient," the mayor mused openly. "I can hardly keep track of my own boy these days."

_Oh, him. _Young Do remembered the kid from the museum gala. _Yes, you're out of luck._

"English private school has done him too well, and these days he thinks the world is a playground."

A silent service team brought in lunch (scallops in cream) and bottles of wine. The Mayor lit a cigarette as an alien-faced Siamese cat climbed into his lap.

"A smoke?"

Both father and son shook their heads.

"Mr. Choi, I hear you want to build one more hotel here in Chongqing. Smart move, but hard to execute." The mayor waved a hand and cigarette smoke briefly choked him from view. The buzz of flies punctuated the air.

"You see, these days everyone wants to build a hotel. All you need is about 200 million dollars. Even Robert de Niro is building one in Shanghai."

The atmosphere was one of relaxed ease. Faint jazz drifted from a neighboring room. Yet Young Do felt remarkably tense.

Mayor Li puffed out more smoke. "Problem is, no land. You can't have 30 million people crowding the city without certain … scarcities."

"I understand." His father looked unfazed. "But, with all things, it is a matter of prioritization."

"Of course, of course. But priorities are expensive."

"Naturally."

"Only area available in this entire city is a stretch of old houses dating to the 1920s." The mayor snapped his fingers and an assistant appeared with a binder. "Resident relocation and dismantling … That'll cost 20 million dollars."

Choi Dong Wook reviewed the contents. "Surely not?"

Young Do nearly laughed. _Abuji, 80% of that 20 million is going directly to his pockets._

"Mayor Li, I offer you 10 million."

"16 million or no hotel."

"14 million. Cash."

"And we have a deal, old friend." The mayor crushed his cigarette against a wine glass and smiled.

When it was all over, Young Do walked out in a daze. The politician's residence was more bunker than mansion, plain on the outside and heavily guarded by armed bodyguards. At his exit, one approached Young Do in question.

"Got a motorcycle I can borrow?"

The guard spoke something in Chinese.

"Oh never mind." Spotting an old bicycle propped against the wall—and ignoring the guards' cries of alarm—Young Do hopped on and cycled away furiously. The politician's complex disappeared behind.

Stomach still churning, he biked until a more urban part of the city came to view. Eventually the dense traffic forced him to stop. Breathing heavily, he rested the bike by a grime-covered tree and surveyed his surroundings: yelling fruit vendors; old women chatting on sidewalks; several near-accidents along the busy road. Many of the workers posted by a construction project had fatigue carved into their faces.

_Poor bastards. Wonder which of you will lose your home?_

He took out his phone and dialed her number.

"Ya, Cha Eun Sang? I'm in a weird foreign city and I might be lost — hello? Ya, hello? Why'd she hang up? For once I'm telling the truth."

He bought a cheap bun from a street vendor, sinking his teeth into it as a crowd of middle school students passed by. He blinked, amused. These kids looked so tiny. When he was that age, he'd already fancied himself a full-sized monster.

At 13 or 14, when people were tripping over clumsy _feelings_, Young Do realized being bad was the ultimate liberation. To be bad meant to hell with everything. No hopes, no expectations.

The villain follows no rules — and has nothing to fear but a sad ending.

Thanks to his accursedly good memory, Young Do knows the name of every kid he's bullied. Ever. It forms a collection of names in his mind, not unlike a pond of floating bodies.

But uprooting a whole neighborhood … now that's just too many bodies to keep track.

—

The next day came and still no Young Do.

Last morning class saw Eun Sang sitting near the back, trying hard to focus as the teacher rambled about functions and integrals. It was all deathly boring. Her head tipped forward as she drifted off.

Suddenly, a tug at her ponytail pulled her back in upright position.

"What's this? Snoozing in class? You bad girl."

She turned in surprise. "Choi Young Do?"

"Yours truly."

She considered his appearance—sly smile and all—with a flat expression. As usual, he's disregarded the dress code, opting for a blue sweater instead of the usual white button-down underneath.

"Why are you criticizing _me_ for falling asleep?" she whispered furiously. "You're three hours late to school!"

"Different standards of evaluation."

"What?"

"Because I'm king panther at the top of the food chain," he murmured back, smirk deepening. "And you're somewhere in the 'hamster, gerbil, bunny' category."

"I'd like to hit you."

"Aigo, you've missed me this much? I don't blame you… Nothing happens here without Choi Young Do."

She grimaced with disdain. "Wait until you hear about what's happened. Because you were absent, we've been assigned together for the—"

She felt a whack against the top of her head.

"Stop flirting, you two. Or I'm sending you to the Chairwoman's office!" The math instructor handed Eun Sang her graded homework. "Choi Young Do! Why are you late? Why didn't you turn in homework?"

"Teacher Lee, I don't need to learn calculus. I like more thrilling things." Young Do winked at the woman. "You know … Fourier analysis, topology, number theory."

To Eun Sang's surprise, the teacher was not angry. "Young Do ah." She sighed instead. "You had the highest math entrance score in Jeguk High history. What happened?"

"I got a motorcycle, Teacher Lee." He pinched Eun Sang's cheek. "And a girl."

"Well, don't overdo it. Or else the Chairwoman's going to call in your father again."

Eun Sang whacked his arm as the instructor walked away. "Choi Young Do! Why are you such a bad student?"

"This stuff is a waste of time—"

"Ya! It isn't for me! I need good grades for college. Can you apply some effort? We're partners for the literature project."

"Jinjja? How did this happen?"

"You were absent!"

"And no one else wanted to be your partner?" he snickered silently. "All the more fun for me." He leaned in close. "Too bad it's boring literature — and not physics, chemistry, or biology."

Scrunching her lips in exasperation, Eun Sang pushed him away with a finger against his forehead. "We need to pick a book and do a presentation."

"Oh yeah? What are the choices?"

"Great Gatsby—"

"Floats dead in swimming pool. No can't do. Next."

"Madame Bovary."

"Swallows arsenic, pukes, and dies. Also skip."

"… Anne Karenina?"

"Decapitated by train." Young Do narrowed his eyes. "Ya … anything without blood and gore?"

"Only Hamlet left."

"Sword stab and the rest is silence." He snorted. "Aigoo. Why's this stuff called 'great literature'?"

"Choi Young Do!"

"Fine, fine. Let's do Hamlet."

"But it's hard to read," Eun Sang began in protest, her words dying as the teacher called the class to attention.

"I have returned your graded homework." She looked at them with faint disapproval. "Nearly everyone's gotten the last problem wrong. Please take the last minutes of class to review it."

Frowning, Eun Sang snatched her problem set and turned to the last page. A big red X had crossed out her answer, leaving only 5 points for "effort".

"Oh? What's this?" She winced to see Young Do peeking over her shoulder. "Our social welfare's not that smart."

"Everyone got it wrong! Didn't you hear the teacher?" She wanted to see him badly embarrassed for once. "You didn't even turn in this assignment!"

"Let me see." Young Do took the homework. "Ya — Cha Eun Sang! Really?" His lethal eyebrows rose through the clouds. "Aigoo, integration is math in training wheels. You screwing up this problem is like falling flat on your face … in training wheels."

"How—how dare you? If you're so smart, what's the—"

"The answer is 6π." He looked at her face and turned away to laugh. "I'll have to warn Myung Soo to never copy your answers."

"Did you peek at the answer book? Ya, Choi Young Do! Stop laughing and look at me!"

The bell rang.

Young Do shrugged at her in that devil-may-care way of his and pranced out the classroom. She took her sweet time in packing her things, fuming in raging annoyance.

When she exited the classroom, a crowd had already formed around the main announcement board. _Oh my god it's the midterm results. _Her pulse rose as she approached the board of doom.

A hand tugged at her. She looked up to see Young Do. Next to him, Myung Soo waved while Chang Young and Bo Na were near in the front, celebrating Chan Young's win as first place scorer.

"Stop searching." Young Do nudged at her. "You scored 52nd. Isn't that below average? Maybe you need to study—"

"Daebak!"

Myung Soo had squeezed to the front, seemingly delighted at something uproariously funny. "Last again! Ya, Hyung, how did you beat me?"

"Because answering all 'A's is still better than guessing randomly."

Eun Sang squinted and saw the names: 99 — Choi Young Do; 100 — Jo Myung Soo. _Ridiculous. _She exhaled and then shook her head. There was method to Choi Young Do's madness. But she knew better than to wonder at his motives. He alternated between impulse and philosophy, brutality and humor… the sacred and the profane. She was beginning to think he could live a thousand lives, and still have troubles and jokes left over to tell.

Instead, the source of her worry turned to her own grades as they all made their way to lunch. She always ranked top three at her old school — but only because it was not a good school. Nearly half the students there would opt to skip university.

Jeguk was a different sort of beast. Jeguk could be her chance.

Having thought about it long and hard, Eun Sang sat in the social welfare chair soon as she entered the cafeteria. In many ways, it was Choi Young Do's chair too. She looked around at the staring students and made peace with their scorn.

"This is a surprise." Young Do sat opposite her … so tall he blocked most onlookers from her view. "You know what this chair means."

"Of course."

"Impressive." He cocked his head, lips curling in slow challenge. "You want to play?"

"What is the game?"

"Choi Young Do and his choice victim. No small print. And no compensation should you cry, get hurt, or disintegrate."

"I understand." Eun Sang met his eyes. _I've understood since the day I signed your contract._

The night before, she couldn't sleep a wink. As she lay motionless, the moon's wavering sadness cast a halo around her omma's face. For hours and ages, she'd considered Yoo Rachel's suggestion. That she run. That she transfer and forget them all. She knew Rachel spoke the truth: Eun Sang was flying too close to the sun, trying to mingle with angels and demons, when her own wings were constructed of wax and glue.

_ Danger, danger, danger … _her mind had buzzed in warning.

But danger was terribly exciting and as she lay awake her feverish mind grappled with endless possibilities. Until now, her life had been a series of catastrophe and consequence … beginning with her father's death and continuing with her sister's abandonment. She was forever struggling to hold her ground, practically suffocating from the sheer claustrophobia.

Wage labor until she's too old to stand? How boring. How brutishly ordinary. What an utterly thankless, unremarkable joke of a life.

"Aren't you embarrassed to be 99th place?" Eun Sang asked coyly, trying hard to mimic Young Do's attitude. For once, she too wanted to be fearless. To be slick. "At the rate you're going, all that's left is the mafia."

"Or becoming a gigolo." He ran his tongue against his upper lip. "Don't forget I'm handsome."

Eun Sang laughed.

_ See? Playing a game can be amusing too_, she thought as she considered the stakes. Jeguk could be her ticket out of poverty. That alone was enticement enough.

Besides, the outcome of a game is always binary: you lose or you win. Nothing more complicated than that. At worst a flesh wound, and no disappoints of the heart.

Eun Sang surveyed the cafeteria and felt calm at last. It was time to stop sobbing at the sheer _unfairness _of life. … Who ever cries if they're handed bad cards? Dealt with bad chips? It was not her fault that omma's mute, that abuji came down with cancer, that unnie had left.

Just bad luck.

But with all games, chances open with action. And after a lifetime of passively cowering before miseries, Eun Sang was ready to make a choice.

"Choi Young Do." He looked at her in faint questioning, waiting — wanting.

"Yoo Rachel told me I should transfer." Her features smoothed. "But I don't want to. And I don't want to be expelled either."

With his blackmail, Choi Young Do had stirred her into action.

She was going to _play,_ seawater and drowning be damned.

—

Notes:

Before writing this fanfic, I made sure to set down the entire plot. So don't worry if there are parts that seem irrelevant. *wink wink wink*

All my love to people reading and commenting. You're my motivation and inspiration.

[also, send me a message if you find typos. I will correct them. Work this week has left me with very little sleep and a massive headache.]


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to tita morris, Sheherzade, and bam for your reviews. I love you guys! 3

**A Little Fall of Rain**

Chapter Six

_L'isle Joyeuse _was dimly lit and embalmed in the scent of flowers. Their table rested by an indoor pond dotted with water lilies. In the corner of her eye, Eun Sang could sense the shadows of the waiting _maître d'_ and his service staff. As far as restaurants came, this place may have been Mars.

Young Do sat opposite her, bored and silent in crisply tailored formal ware. The erratic flickering of candles cast his face in varying masks of nonchalance and irritation. He was presently checking something on his phone.

They'd already been served _amuse bouche_ and were now on the appetizer. Eun Sang stared at the oddly green soup before her and made a face.

"What's this?"

"They probably put peas in the blender and added frog legs… with an infusion of white truffles and B.S. Something like that." Young Do didn't look up from his phone. The glare from the screen exaggerated his features and she could see the hollows of his eyes. Under certain slants of light, Choi Young Do had the ability to look much older than 18 — and much, much more dangerous.

"Ah, Sir, if you will allow me to suggest the wine pairings." It was the sommelier, standing by their table with his head modestly inclined.

"No need. Just bring an Henri Jayer." Young Do still didn't look up from his phone.

The sommelier's face showed surprise. "We have only a single bottle in house. An '83 _Vosne Romanee Les Brulees_, recently acquired from Sotheby's London."

Young Do scowled and waved a hand. "Don't need the details. Just bring it."

The sommelier left and Eun Sang felt a flash of hot anxiety. "Choi Young Do. What's going on? I thought you don't like to touch your father's money."

"Don't worry. It's all going to a good cause."

"What?"

"Raising my abuji's blood pressure through the roof." He finally looked up with icy satisfaction and raised his phone. "And putting on a good show."

Eun Sang frowned, still a step behind his antics.

"Aigo, the things they say about us online." Young Do scrolled through his phone and read, "The Zeus group heir, long known for his bad boy reputation, has done it again. Sorry ladies, our man appears to be taken! Choi Young Do was photographed with an unknown young lady at the Museum of KNH opening gala last week. Sources confirm the girl's name as Cha Eun Sang. She is, by all accounts, a Jeguk student on full financial aid. According—"

In horror she made a grab for his phone. The small print swarmed before her eyes until she locked in on a headline:

_MAID(EN) FOR ZEUS?!_ _Choi Young Do's new girl, and why she could be Korea's new Cinderella._

"Entertaining, right? I've always wanted to star in gossip columns."

She suppressed an urge to smack away his smirk. "Really not funny. And stop reading out loud."

Eun Sang flexed a clammy palm before scrolling down the page.

_According to a source closely connected to the couple, Cha Eun Sang and her mother are currently maids employed to another chaebol household. "She's used to seeing all this wealth," a close friend of the girl told us by phone. "I knew it was only a matter of time before she tried to catch the eye of someone rich."_ _What do you think, Seoul? Is this a Cinderella romance in the making?_

"Don't forget to read the top comments." The waitstaff had brought over the wine and Young Do was now running an idle finger around the rim of his wine glass.

The quiet background music changed to a more sultry number— some jazzy aria about obsessive love and all that. She braced herself and read on.

_[+2,741, -62] The girl looks pretty .. Butㅋㅋ __look what happened to Go Hyun Jung._

_[+2,145, -56] Young Do ah~~ if I knew you date poor girls, I'd have camped in front of your door years ago…ㅠㅠ_

Some comments reserved more choice words for her (_another gold digger? _), but most were inane expressions of surprise. Rubbing at an eye, Eun Sang scrolled further, scanning the walls of text, until another comment caught her attention:

_She's following his mother's footsteps I see. Good luck …ㅠㅠ__, don't disappear from the world too fast~_

The comment was buried in the middle of the page. She sneaked a glance at Young Do, who seemed as coolly pleased as ever. Perhaps he'd not seen it.

"All this attention makes me want to up my game." He gave her a trademark devil's grin and snapped his fingers. She winced, knowing he was up to no good.

"Sir, how may I be of service?" A waiter immediately bowed. Young Do took his phone and tossed it at the surprised man. "Picture. I'd like one of us."

"Ah, y-yes Sir." The poor waiter raised the phone awkwardly. "How would you like your picture, Sir?"

"Doesn't matter." Young Do placed a hand under his chin and mock smiled. "Just take it."

Before Eun Sang could react, the flash went off and the deed was done.

Young Do took his phone back—chuckling at the result—and dismissed the waiter. "Ya, Cha Eun Sang, do you have to look astonished in every photo?"

"Not my problem. Who cares if I look like this or that?"

"You need to put on your best face in public."

"What are you trying to say?"

He pressed a button and clucked his tongue. "Done. Sent!"

"Choi Young Do! What did you just do?"

"Fanned the flames of obsession." He half-pouted and shrugged. "Our friends at the gossip site could use more … authentic source material. So I sent them some."

She died of embarrassment. "Jinjja—! The games you play! So childish."

"To our scheming, sexy future." He toasted at her instead and took a sip of the wine. "Mm.. not bad. Cha Eun Sang, you should try some of this."

She eyed the glass before her. Next to the candles, it assumed mysterious shades of crimson. _What is this? _She wondered as temptation infiltrated her senses. _Liquid desire? Dragon's blood? Delirium's draught?_

"No thanks." She tore her gaze away and stared at her hands.

"That's too bad." With a subdued smile, Young Do took her glass and emptied its contents into the water lily pond.

"YA! You're too much!" Eun Sang gasped in horror. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Young Do didn't bat an eye. "I'll get away with this stuff because abuji owns the restaurant." He laughed shortly. "I love messing up his things."

"Act like an infant by yourself."

"It's more fun when there's an unwilling but pretty accomplice."

_Unwilling accomplice indeed_, Eun Sang thought with some resignation. She'd wanted to attend Nam Soo Jin's performance to gather clues regarding the Jeguk piano. He'd held the tickets, and refused to attend unless she agreed to dinner before hand.

"This is hardly dinner if you haven't eaten anything." She made note of his untouched plate.

"Wine is all I need to get through a classical music concert."

"Horrible waste of food. What are you? Vampire? 400-year-old alien?"

His mouth corner swayed to one side. "If I taste any of this, I will throw up."

She stopped, mid-bite.

"This is where my abuji brings all his girlfriends to dine on the first date." He raised his glass. "The ladies always faint with awe. Though_you _don't seem too pleased."

Eun Sang felt sick; the meal was beginning to riot against her stomach. "Then why am I here? Why did you bring me here?

"Thought experiment," he answered with an indecipherable expression and said no more.

—

Young Do gripped his phone hard, trying to come to a decision.

Outside the car window were scenes of ordinary nightlife, with crowds spilling along sidewalks and young couples strolling hand-in-hand. He tried to imagine Eun Sang among them. How would she have lived had she not played into his hands? Had she not gotten into Jeguk? Had not that one in 100 million chance delivered her into the bowels of hell?

It was quiet in the car, and he turned to look at her.

Eun Sang appeared deep in thought, eyes affixed toward an unknown distance. He felt his jaws tighten. Even in the bad lighting, she was radiant— with glory in her eyes and spring at her lips.

But he also knew she's a siren call made in warm weather. One day, the sea breeze would turn cold and she would be no more. It was the common fate of all women to fade and wither; no girl remains beauty and truth forever.

He thought of his mother, seated at her dresser, looking frightened whenever a new wrinkle appeared. He then thought of his father … and his "advice" that night at the ball.

Perhaps — perhaps when the time came, he might be able to follow Choi Dong Wook's steps. _To abandon, discard, and replace_. Young Do's hand tightened against his phone.

They were both silent as they arrived at symphony hall. A bowing usher handed them the concert program and they were directed to a magnificent private box, hovering not far from the stage.

Ever the busy bee, Eun Sang sat down with the program and flipped to Nam Soo Jin's artist biography. But Young Do squirmed in his seat, irked by the prospect of sitting still for two hours while old people dozed off to flutes and violins.

"I need to do something. Be back," he told her and left.

Outside, the lobby was crowded with concertgoers. Young Do found a secluded spot toward the hall's end and took out his phone.

"It's me. I assume you've received my email. I'll need you to find someone."

He looked out the glass wall into the darkened street below.

"Name: Yoo Kyung Ran. Age 43. I believe she's in Korea, but possibly living under a different name. You will need to comb through records public and private. It might take time, but it shouldn't be difficult. I will compensate your efforts accordingly."

Young Do ended the call and remained still, wondering why he's searching for his mother now— when he'd been content to rage in confusion. _Ignorance is bliss_. But no. It's time to move on. He'll take what he can find, even if it's rocks and thorns.

Eun Sang looked up in faint questioning when he joined her.

"Why are we even here? I want to party." Young Do tossed his blazer to one side and sunk into the seat.

"I've told you! Nam Soo Jin picked out that piano for Jeguk. I want to speak to her after the concert. Maybe we'll find a clue."

He glowered and loosened a shirt button.

"Why are you so tense tonight?"

"Oh?" He raised a brow and smiled tightly. "Are you scared? … Or is your heart fluttering?"

She glared but did not move. "Neither."

"What? Not even curious about my moods anymore?" A tuft of loose hair peeked against her ear and Young Do teased at it. "What if I'm planning something very mischievous?"

"Oh please. Why is it always about you? You're a diva, Choi Young Do. What if my mood is very bad? What if I'm planning to do you bodily harm?"

"_Bodily_ harm?" He leaned forward, a shadow of a smile revealing sharp teeth, and stopped breaths away from her lips. "How much body?

She inhaled sharply and turned away.

Amused, Young Do leaned on one hand and gazed at her profile. Below them was a sea of faces, pale dots of pink smeared against red velvet. Their seats were nestled darkly within the private box … yet anyone below could look up and see him with his eyes on Eun Sang. The thought made him strangely thrilled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention please." A hush fell as a man walked on stage mike in hand. "I am Lee Ryu Han, music director of the Seoul Philarmonic Orchestra. It is with deep regret that I inform you there's been a change in tonight's program."

The audience erupted into whispers as Eun Sang turned to look at him in surprise.

"Pianist Nam Soo Jin will not be able to perform with us tonight. The orchestra will instead bring you Mahler's Symphony No. 4."

Young Do got up and grabbed his jacket. Gesturing at Eun Sang, he remarked, "Come on. Follow me. Something's rotten in the state of Denmark."

They raced down flights of stairs and saw the guards.

"Now what?" Eun Sang whispered behind him. "They've closed the backstage door."

"Doesn't matter." He approached the guards.

"Sir, the backstage area is currently closed to all visitors."

Young Do pulled out a business card with smooth menace. "I'm the heir to Zeus Hotels, her family's biggest business partner. I think she'll want to see me."

With reluctance, the guards opened the door. "Ms. Nam Soo Jin is in the warm up room down the hall."

They followed the guard's instructions and made their way through the narrow hallway, with sounds of instruments here and there as they walked past various warm-up rooms.

"You can't be doing this, Soo Jin!" They heard the arguing voices soon as they reached the hallway's end.

"You don't even understand me, Mother!"

"Why are you so picky about your pianos? Things can't always be perfect! It's only one string out of tune."

"I won't play if it's one note out of tune."

"People won't notice."

"Leave me alone! You've never understood how I feel about music."

"Soo jin ah! You can't_ afford_ to do this! Don't you know? These are your last public performances. Ever! The doctor called today and confirmed the results. He said your hands will never recover."

—

The autumnal night was usually warm as they stepped out of symphony hall.

"Let's ditch the car," Young Do said suddenly and grabbed her hand.

"No way!" She shook off his grasp. "I'm going home to think about the case."

"Seriously?" He pointed at the night sky. "But the weather's clear. Let's go to Namsan. It's nearby."

"What? Whoever said we're going to Namsan?"

"Inclination." His features rumpled in disdain. "Ya, Cha Eun Sang, plans are dull. Let's just go."

_No plans? _The idea was more attractive than she dared to admit.

And it was so that they found themselves on the crowded bus, standing side-by-side as the vehicle lurched forth slowly. Eun Sang blinked, feeling awkward when several passengers stared. She glanced sideways at Young Do. And then it hit her: they were all staring at _him_.

Choi Young Do was absurdly overdressed for public transportation and absurdly at ease. For someone so restless, he seemed seductively comfortable in his own skin. As the bus threw people into the occasional stumble, he was the lone point of stability— firmly balanced on long legs, eyes cool and expression neutral. The passing streetlights flashed his cheekbones in focus. He looked beautifully unforgiving.

The bus passed under a bridge and they were briefly obscured by shadows.

When the lights returned, Young Do stared right back at her, mouth curled in delight. He'd caught her staring.

Eun Sang gasped and turned away, finding it hard to meet his eyes for the remainder of the ride.

The strange night turned stranger still when they arrived at Namsan Park and Young Do seemed determined to head uphill. It was already dark, and the winding staircases barely visible.

"Jinjja .. coming here so late. It's dark!" she complained as they headed deeper into the woods. "And super scary. Ya, Choi Young Do!"

"There's this spot I haven't been to in years," he murmured and activated the flashlight on his phone. "I wonder…"

She turned on her own flashlight and followed with suspicion licking her heels.

"Here it is." He crossed over the rope lining the pathway.

"Um, how about no?"

"Scared?"

She crossed her arms. "These ropes mark the rule of law and society. If I cross and follow you into the dark, who knows what will happen."

"What?" He gave her a wolfish grin. "Afraid I'll devour your heart?"

"_No. _More like you might hack me into pieces and burry my body under the trees."

"Cha Eun Sang, that's really disgusting." He sighed and rubbed at his brow.

"I trust my horror movies more than I trust you."

"Whatever, just come. It'll be exciting."

"That's what they all say," she grumbled, but then hopped over the rope when he offered her his arm. They made their way through the trees; he held up several low-hanging branches, and —

The view took her breath away.

All of Seoul lay before her in a journeywork of lights, with the wild, starry night in answering mirage. A warm breeze shook the trees in action and everything seemed to explode in rhythm and color. A rock formation leveled out the hillside into a natural viewing platform, and Eun Sang sunk down in wonder.

Young Do sat next to her and whistled. "How's this for a spectacle?"

"I'm not sure I like it."

"Jinjja?" He brushed away her windswept hair. "You love dismembered bodies … but hate Mother Nature?"

"I can be afraid of heights."

"Why? Afraid you'll fall?"

"No .. afraid I'll _want _to fall."She smiled faintly. "It's the vantage point. Reminds me how big the world really is, when my life is so small."

He shrugged and stretched out his legs. "Big or small, things are mostly the same. Just enjoy the view, Cha Eun Sang."

_No, that's not true, _she thought with resentment-mixed envy. _To me there_ is _a difference between big and small._

And this was probably why being around Choi Young Do made her uneasy. He was all about big gestures. Explosions. Flashes of daring. Speeding away into oblivion. But the bottom line of her life has always been limited by poverty. Being around him—catching the roaring fever with which he responded to life—was dangerous.

Eun Sang looked at the starry sky, a vast scattering of impossible lights and unattainable temptations. Her chest hurt. Being with Choi Young Do filled her with yearning of the worst kind: an aching urgent and devastating.

_And yearning for what? _Adventure? Escape? Combustion? Journey to the moon and back?

"Were you really in some foreign city when you called?"

He looked surprised. "Of course. Aish, it was rude of you to hang up when—"

"Which city?"

"Chongqing."

"What was it like?"

"Really crowded. Cheap buns though."

"What other cities have you been to?"

"Uh—"

"Fine. What cities have you traveled to just this year?"

Young Do tilted his head at her. "Let's see .. Lisbon, Denpasar, New York, Paris, Edinburgh, Osaka, Ho Chi Minh City, and some other ones. Boring stuff. Don't see why you care."

But she did care. In her mind, the cities formed a network of unreachable lights, as distant as the stars above and just as brilliant. The yearning in her heart reached a higher frequency.

She turned to him fully. "Tell me how to win."

"As in scaring kids at school?"

"No. Tell me how to beat everything." She caught her hair as a warm gust of wind passed. "You seem to have discovered the secret. Whatever it is. I want to learn. Teach it to me."

Young Do considered her with half-shut eyes. "Cha Eun Sang, I make a very naughty instructor."

"Doesn't matter."

"For starters," he murmured, "fear nothing."

Eun Sang shut her eyes, trying to calm the beating of her heart.

"Laugh at the fools."

When she opened her eyes, Young Do was staring into the city.

"Trust no one and believe in nothing."

He looked back. Was he always this close?

"Last but not least—" his lips brushed against hers "— leave no pleasure untasted."

No, it wasn't a brushing of lips. It was more of a tasting. As if her lips were rose petals he might crush within his mouth and sip their perfume.

"Pleasure?" she sighed, light-headed and wonder-struck.

"To sing, to burn, to forget."

He tilted her chin high with a single finger, unsmiling and lazy-eyed, and grazed her neck with his teeth. And then came the declaratory gestures: his hands around her waist; a pull towards his terrifying core. She felt the coldness of his watch as it caressed past her ear. A stand of her hair tangled rather painfully in his fingers as he pulled her close. It seemed he wanted to taste a little of everything — her eyelids, the roundness of her earlobes … the trembling of her lips.

And how her body _vibrated_. This. This was true terror, of the most delicious and immediate timbre. She felt his closeness keenly. But who was Choi Young Do? The boy against her had transformed into something bold: a flash of pure instinct, primal and urgent.

_ Ah, so this is speed, this is pleasure_, she thought. _Inferno is a beast with velvet wings._

When a fever had raged against her skin and her eyelids felt too hot, Young Do abruptly stopped. His heavy breaths were warm against her cheeks as he leaned his forehead against hers. She could sense the rise and fall of his chest. In the darkness, the rhythm was oddly intimate and familiar — a pulsation mirrored in her own rib cage and sustained throughout all time.

Young Do turned away and laughed. And then flicked the tip of her nose with a thumb.

"I've wanted to do this since the day I saw you in those weird pajamas." The low whisper came like a challenge. "Though god knows why. … ah, the mystery of desire."

"Desire?"The word smothered against her mouth like a flammable moth.

He flashed her a crooked grin. "You owe me noodles."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't eat anything at dinner. So now you should buy me noodles."

And so they made their way out and ended up in another bus. This time the seats were empty. They sat facing each other by opposite walls.

Young Do considered her intently. His eyes looked almost gentle … if not for the teasing smile dangling at his lips.

"I can guess what you're thinking."

"Is that so."

"You are horrified." He pursed his lips. "You're thinking, "Ya! This bad person is so bad! Choi Young Do, I want a refund for my heart! You can't trip me _and _use up my first kiss.""

Eun Sang rolled her eyes. "Who said that was my first kiss?"

"Doesn't matter. After me, do you remember the ones previous?"

"Your ego is the size of Jupiter."

"I prefer the Sun."

Irritated, she ignored him for the rest of the ride.

For noodles, she picked the cheapest ramyun at the dingiest convenience store she could find. As they sat by the window, he poked at the Styrofoam bowl and grumbled,

"What's this? You treat me so badly."

"I'm stingy. Get over it, Choi Young Do."

"This brand doesn't even taste good."

Eun Sang glared. "So now what? The chairwoman's deadline is in three days. We've procrastinated massively and won't have time to name the culprit. If I get expelled, I'm going to die of rage and come back as a vengeful ghost, tear out your inner organs, marinate them in soju—"

"Stop stop. That's gross. I get your point." Young Do pointed at his head. "I've got the IQ. There's no way I can't figure it out if I apply effort."

"So apply the effort."

"Later. I'm having ramyun."

Despite earlier complaints, he was eating very well. Eun Sang shook her head in disbelief. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"You liking convenience store ramyun … when you can eat fancy French cuisine every day."

"But fancy French food isn't better than ramyun. It just costs more."

"That's not true. Ramyun has no nutrition. Plus it's ordinary."

"There's art in the ordinary. No one ever stares if you eat ramyun alone."

He said the words carelessly. But Eun Sang felt uncomfortable. It was harder to play his games when moments of vulnerability suggested at deeper complications beneath the ice-smooth surface.

But Young Do seemed to have read her mind. And was intent on heightening her discomfort. With a mute smile, he added,

"It's also family tradition. After every company event, my mother would bring me out for street food."

"Why would she —"

"Because, a long time ago, she was just like you. Tired, overworked, poor. Dreaming of making it big and retiring in comfort by A.D. 2020."

—

Saturday morning descended upon Eun Sang with the rudeness of a slap.

She groaned as the alarm sounded 7 AM. The night previous had granted her little sleep.

_All that tossing and turning over some piano_, she thought glumly — but then paused as she sat before her mirror. _Or was it? Do pianos flash with the force of a thousand suns? _Her finger trailed over her lips…

_Go away, Choi Young Do. _She finished her morning routine and readied for work. _You are not clever. You are not interesting. You are not devastatingly attractive._

_ And you are most definitely not a good kisser. No._

Mango Six was quiet that morning as she organized the drink ingredients and updated the chalkboard menu. Weekend mornings were typically uneventful until noon.

"Hi."

She turned and smiled. It was Chan Young. He made himself comfortable in a seat nearby and took out study materials.

When morning tasks were completed, Eun Sang leaned by the cash register and straightened her hair. Chan Young removed his earphones and looked at her with a small smile.

She waved back. "You study too hard, Chan Young."

"I work no harder than you." He picked up a book and flipped through some pages. "This stuff is my ticket to freedom."

"Freedom? But your life is nearly perfect."

"I want success too." He grinned, before looking more serious. "Eun Sang ah, you shouldn't let people at school distract you too much."

"You mean Choi Young Do."

"He's not going to be your ticket out of anything."

"I know that."

_More like he'll make me burn in the most agonizing of flames._

"And others too. Don't listen to their words. I've tried not too."

Her mouth corners deepened. "But you're so well liked. There are days when I forget you are also on scholarship."

"No, people still say things." Chan Young tilted his head, eyes grave. "About my studying habits. About my appa. About me dating Bo Na. Though—" he offered her a rueful smile "—it seems girls are treated much more badly. We both date someone wealthy. Yet people put you through hell."

"It's not hell. I'm okay."

"Good." He laughed a little. "You've always been tough. But think more deeply about your goals, okay?

"My goals?"

"College of choice. Major of choice. Career of choice. That stuff. And it doesn't have to be wage labor." At her surprised reaction, he added gently, "Your omma had called my appa in a panic. So I know."

Eun Sang rolled her eyes. "It's more convenient not to have goals. That way I can do well anywhere."

"Having no goals will freeze your heart in place. Start small. Try joining a club or elective."

"But that costs money. There's no way I'll work another job to pay for golf clubs—"

Chan Young's phone rang.

"Ah! It's Bo Na. Gotta run."

"Aigo… look at you, so perfectly adjusted." Eun Sang made a face and waved him goodbye.

He waved back, his jacket half on, and rushed through the doors— only to stop.

"There was something else … oh! Bo Na asked me to tell you. Her father's on the school board. According to him, the piano came from a single source donor."

"What?"

"Bo Na said it might be important, since you're still under investigation. The piano was purchased entirely by the pianist Nam Soo Jin's family."

It wasn't until Chan Young had left that the new information sank in properly. In a confused rush, Eun Sang grabbed a napkin and scribbled down her thoughts:

_Jeguk piano. Expensive. Handpicked (and purchased?) by pianist Nam Soo Jin._

Nam Soo Jin. Nam Soo Jin. She dug through her bag and found the concert program. Flipping to the artist bio, she read,

_Pianist Nam Soo Jin is among the most dynamic young Korean virtuosi to emerge onto the classical music stage. Her career began early after winning the 1999 International Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow, Russia._

Russia.

With shaky fingers, Eun Sang found her notebook and tore through the pages until Choi Young Do's messy handwriting came to view:

_Vandal's message: WITH YOUR DIRTY MOИEY BURN IN HELL_ _И = N lookalike, but Russian Cyrillic._

"What to do next? What to do?" she muttered repetitively as she took out her phone. Pulling out the search browser, she typed "Seoul Metropolitan Library" and dialed the listed number.

"Hello, does the library hold a recording of the 1999 Tchaikovsky Competition?"

"Hold one moment please," the voice on the other end said. "Ah… yes. A video recording is in our classical performances collection."

"Oh, thank you! Can you hold it for me, please?"

"I'm sorry, but that recording was recently checked out."

Eun Sang hung up in puzzled silence. Grabbing her notebook, she reviewed the rest of the case notes:

_Student with Russian connection? But not Lee Anna, who has alibi._

_Message carved in large, crude letters. How?_

_Metal detector at school entrance._

"But Nam Soo Jin has a Russian connection too .." she noted and looked around for the concert program. Unable to find it, she shook her bag of its contents.

A large envelop fell— followed by a splattering of photos. With horror, she realized she'd forgotten to pass on Myung Soo's "secret spy photos". Bending down to gather its loose contents, she frozen when several caught her eye.

Why, the photos were all of Jeguk music students. Orchestra rehearsals. Singers with their accompanists. Cellists putting rosin on their bows. One particular photo stood out in clear focus:

A snap shot of a small group of students, gathered for what seemed like a seminar or workshop. Everyone held small knives in their grasp.

That moment her phone rang.

A text from Choi Young Do:

**Looking for a tape? I have it. Call me.**

I'm closing the mystery plot to move on to bigger games. =)

30,000 words in and I'd love to have your feedback. What's working? What's not? Thanks for reading!

xoxo Marion


End file.
